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One Winter morning last year, I received an email from Heather Robb of The Spring Standards, a Brooklyn trio that spins lush, sincere folk through layered harmonies. Heather wanted to know if I was interested in covering her band’s show at The Rumba Cafe in Columbus, Ohio. I explained that I didn’t do much musical coverage anymore for the magazine I edit for, Paste, but I would be happy to photograph the group’s performance. And I did. Robb, James Cleare, and James Smith led the venue through a lilting succession of elegant, acoustic hymns devoted to the lost art of falling in and out of love. It was all sorts of ’70s Fleetwood Mac wonderful with an Elton John honky tonk sheen. It reminded me of my years in Williamsburg and the neighborhood’s resistance to straight lines and commoditized sounds. Also: Midwestern thrift store chic.

Again, this was a year — at least — ago. After experiencing these pleasures, I am now providing pictures of this performance. And for that, I apologize to The Spring Standards.

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Boop

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