"Hunger Anthem: the whole reason that DIY still matters."--RetroLowFi A needful seeker, an unabashed DIY garage tunesmith with a penchant for lo-fi noise-drenched distortion and a potent-pop immediacy, seesawed and intersected with a focused acoustic purging… Tracing the roots of Hunger Anthem, one arrives on a doorstep of a somewhat disheveled but personable and curious presence of a guy named Brendan. A black drum set and several scattered guitars occupy the living space, as well as a couple of microphones and a healthy pile of torn and well-written upon pieces of notebook paper that sit on a table next to a probing pair of felines and a humming Tascam 4-track with a pair of blown out headphones connected to it. There is much work to be done, and even more to obsess about. Without hesitation, a late morning beer is cracked amidst the promise of a definite balance to come that is constantly being challenged by the unending changes of the moment. Several voices seep through the open windows from the busy and hurried sidewalk in front of the house. Faces grin, places are confused, conversations glow on and disappear in seconds. A tuneful chord is hurled into the racket, and by sundown, it is funneled back through endless hours of youthful tennis racket-strumming to early Kiss and late Beatles records and the realization that in the end, strawberry fields are also hotter than hell, and that the bedroom door is the perpetual gateway to a particularly amazing place, if only you can find it. "A definate diamond in the rough..."--Shredding Paper Magazine