bio

so picture the chatter of a million talkers and then pan sideways to the corner where you notice the sneaky little poet-producer Lev Snowe, who's always observing and scribbling down songs as a curious means of getting closer to the soul. And this prairie kid maybe shows some sonic traces of nostalgia—perhaps that final homestretch after being gone a while—imurred in cosmic synth sways and the glittery sunlight of existence as the drums kick real hard and knock you back again into that familiar fact-consciousness—only this time there is no turning from the psychedelic hypnosis that now distorts the room and draws you into those lines, those words, the ones that maybe linger on in your mind like Eliot—at the still point of the turning world where Lev is too, recording a dazzling scene from his basement studio—that unlikely universe which sparks those future triumphs and freedoms of our time together. And maybe it's at this point you realize that's exactly where you want to be—because even on that tired road home, there are still dreams to be had. They await you. Lev often describes his songwriting as “just playing a part in a greater tradition of writing.” To catch perfect words from the sky, combine them with earthly guitars, and instill them into their own point in history doesn't use a formula or algorithm: It requires patience, and restraint, but its outcome is maybe what nabs your attention and sets Lev forth on his journey.