Frozen snares roll across rooftops, swelling strings sway winter trees, and windy words flood cobblestone streets. This is Parsley Sound. Like fellow soft crooners Clientele, Parsley Sound sound like they sipped tea spiked with Elliot Smith’s tears. They send breathy Brit vocals swimming in oceans of melancholy melodies pulsing with electronic tides. Their foggy tone is continents from contrived. It’s a workingman’s expression of romantic grandeur shining in lo-fi. The Parsley Sound will surely soar as plugged-in psychedelic folk continues its rise skyward. Garnish never made us shed so many sparkling tears before.