The world that Majestico brings us into is one of those fucked up places, decorated by fever dreams and ephemera from all brand of unspooled tangents. It's rooted in a mellow slow burn. Everything reeks like weed and we fall into a deep pit of tame hues and dashing lights. We're plunged into a place where a girl you know is stitching together jorts and sequined shoes for cats and it's a place that makes for a difficult time in differentiating between a present and altered state. Some might say, "Well, who would want to, dummy?" Touche.
Majestico Official Site