Joshua sat across from me at the table at a birthday dinner - gal pal in tow. He had a rugged luminosity and she a wizened timidity. A slice-of-life photographer quickly saddled up to the two of them to snap grainy instant photos. At some point during dinner (after the flash bulbs stopped), Joshua mentioned that he was a musician playing around Brooklyn and it all began to make sense - the radiance. Sufficiently awed, I took a copy of his business card with the e-mail address penciled in. I looked him up a few days later on MySpace.

After my email, "Hello, remember me?" He quickly responded with an invitation for tea and for a serenade on his porch, he and his purple guitar. This, my friends and I agreed, was quite "civilized" and I agreed to the meeting. I managed to get out of the throes of my hellish job at a midtown consultancy by 7 or 8 pm one night (too late for tea and the trip to south Brooklyn). Joshua and I agreed to a Japanese dinner, instead, and I talked about my love of film and music with him over that meal. Weeks later, as the hours stretched towards dawn I finally toured his house, met the roommates, listened to the story of Joshua's life for the past few years and heard...his music. He played me his songs “White on White” and “Impossible Thing,” stirring up thoughts of Joni Mitchell and early R.E.M. The melancholy beauty of it drew me. His performance was a reminder of the dedicated musicians who played the dive bars and the public squares that I would listen to as an adolescent.

The first KM show I went to was at a spot in Park Slope. People were seated in vintage furniture facing the stage. I took one of the few remaining seats in the back, but couldn't stay seated. The music unexpectedly had me on my feet, slightly entranced. It felt a bit like Morrissey in the ability I sensed of Kind Monitor to take Joshua’s melancholy song-writing and turn it into “pop” in the sad melodic singing woven with the bright bass lines. I closed my eyes, because it helped me to absorb the music and was happy to have happened upon Joshua and Kind Monitor. In the past year, I've trailed Kind Monitor as they've moved from venue to venue around New York City - Pete's Candy Store, Monkeytown, and the Zipper Factory. Very unique and incomparable at each show is the intelligent, cheeky wit in the song lyrics, titles, and stage presence. I've seen the group transform as musicians. The early shows characterized by spirited anxiety made way to a meditative intimacy and the fan base became entrenched and ever expanding. I no longer followed the other bands that I'd grown to like over the years. None quite captured my tone in the way of Kind Monitor. KM's blend of angst and irony "...trying to erase the stigmata, nothing makes the world laugh harder" has made me laugh and cry harder.

Sabrina Huff, July 4, 2008