Leafblower’s the band and Tim’s the mascot. A master leaf blower, blowing fog all over your good times, with leafblower the band as the soundtrack: three dudes in jumpsuit uniforms. Think Kraftwerk meets yard work, plus Busch Light, with noise guitars instead of synths. It’s dissonant stuff, reverb fed through tin cans and amplified.
Take the roughest looking dudes in your neighborhood (shovel man from home alone but drunker, with unlimited gasoline). And there’s three of them. Those poor kids inadvertently seeing leafblower descend into their practice space are going to need major psychiatric work to undo their deep-seated fears of all things lawn associated. And that’s without even hearing the music.
Leafblower is loud. It is an experience. Listening to them is like holding an industrial leaf blower, 64cc and gas powered. The ones that strap to your back. Pulling that starting rope, jumpsuit on. Unleashing fury. Fuck you, leaf-litter. You got that beast cranking and everyone walking by crosses to the other side of the street. That is leafblower.