Like crushed gouache between layers of paper, or a much-thumbed issue of Owl Magazine, Travis Bretzer offers excursions into hazy recollections of past events which may or may not have happened. In fact: after listening to Making Love, you may find that your memories have been displaced with charlatan anecdotes of your childhood, and you may even find yourself pursued by the insatiable furies of nostalgia though a landscape of counterfeit recollections. If unsure if this AOR mind-fucking process has occured, simply try to recall the following events…
1) Driving to the family picnic, you and your sister fight viciously in the backseat. Your parents ignore you, too engrossed in signing along with “Billy and I,” not wanting to ruin the moment.
2) You embarrassingly see yourself in an old home movie, nine years old in a neon windbreaker, playing air-guitar and lip sinking to “Hurts So Bad.”
3) One of your oldest memories: after being tucked into bed at 9:30, your parent’s friends come over. For hours, through the walls, you can just barely make out the peals of laughter, a faint smell of strange smoke, and the muffled thumping of “Death Rock.”