From high upon a hill, a distant sibylline machine sketches out in water the blueprint for the gears which drive the force that is The Channel. You may have heard the sounds before in a lucid dream, or resonating through the paralysis of an oppressed nightmare scream. Heard more and more, both domestically and abroad, The Channel pushes onward, not out of self-serving ambition, but from the inherent drive to do so. Five songwriters, siblings, and friends have forged through the unknown territories of jaded hipsters, socialite sisters, voluntary enlisters, madams and misters; in orde…
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