June Panic was young when he started making babies. Baby’s Breadth is already his eleventh – a bouncing baby girl! According to June, she had a longer than average gestation period, leaving him plenty of time to picture what she was going to look like once she was birthed. But babies never look like you think they will. When she was first conceived, it seemed she would be darker in temperament (moodier, say, than her older brother Horror Vacui), but instead, Baby’s Breadth is a bit schizophrenic, an odd hybrid of rock, folk, lap-steel driven country and a white-boy from North Dakota’s version of R&B. He is backed once again by the Indianapolis session militia that June has dubbed his Silver Sound, featuring members of Marmoset, Emperor Penguin, the Pieces, and Brando. He comes across like a gospel-period Dylan, or a Marvin Gaye/David Bowie lovechild fronting a late-60s Byrds which has been mellowed and stretched across a codeine canvas. On “The Song Is Singing Us” he sings, Well, we’re drivin’ the train and we don’t even know what’s in it. And the further we go the less we even think to look – the implications of which are boundless, coming from a fellow known for his well-documented habit of taking long strolls around town with his nose tucked in a book. A restless & inquisitive soul by nature, June takes on the role of prophetic drifter with the philosopher’s stone on his back, weighing him down like an aching yet necessary paperweight in one place just long enough to make a record with some old friends.