Hailing from the end of hurricanes, where the ocean pulls sand into the undertow, HopesAndDrums craft sounds of a time that land forgot.
Featured at Mass MOAA, The Museum of AI Art, based in Florence, Massachusetts
A few miles inland, where the last local Indian was killed, and the hill was not named for him, the mighty Sachems became small-town mascots, revered by sports fans with no knowledge of their legacy. This is where HopesAndDrums ate wild apples and strawberries and cut their teeth on 4-track soundscapes.
The rural farmland turned commuter town, nestled between tourist destinations and post-industrial decay, was fertile for the underground mainstream of HopesAndDrums.
The haze of bouncing between town and garden gave way to dusk crickets, forming a backdrop for HopesAndDrums.
Meanwhile, as car-oriented development increased the online disruption of another formerly vibrant downtown, HopesAndDrums’ music lived on in lieu of an outlet. In fact, the farther it moved from the mainstream, the more cohesive their sound became.
HopesAndDrums laid on old oak floorboards and blasted sonic experiments across the pond behind the asbestos-clad house.
Four distinct seasons each felt special as framed by the others and played a crisp role in the development of HopesAndDrums’ sound.
As coldness dropped to meet post-Puritan isolation, HopesAndDrums developed connections to deeper truths.
Moments of near-perfection can exist if one is open to the possible of everything. All HopesAndDrums converge there, awaiting experience.