Reading artist biographies that sound like they could be written about your goofy friend down the street (except for the whole “becoming famous” thing at the end) are some of my favorite pieces of literature to indulge in. Born in Lancaster California and raised in Quebec, Canada, Patrick Watson began his musical career in high playing for a ska band called Gangster Politics. During this time he worked as a “pool and hot tub water analyst” (a what…?) where he was known to suggest the water be thrown out because “the semen content was too high.” That incredibly serious self-respecting character would end up studying music at Vanier College in Montreal, writing and performing several chart-topping songs for The Cinematic Orchestra, and starting his own band with the exceedingly creative name “Patrick Watson.” Not just anyone can walk in Alice Cooper’s footsteps and make their birth-given name synonymous with their band’s name, and I’m glad it’s this classically trained new-age goofball.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: there’s no more compelling instrument to me personally than an emotionally piercing piano. No other instrument, in the most immediate of instances and in this specific example, can make me instinctively forget to breath in some sort of bizarrely subconscious act of fixation. Patrick Watson’s scratchy yet soft voice perfectly coincides with the lightly persistent keys of his mahogany beast, cutting right through the listener’s thick skin to dish out some serious feels. As a man who loves his soothing pre-sleep tunes, this one has proved more than effective in putting me in a relaxed enough state to basically hit my REM cycle the second my head hits the pillow.