It never happens to me, or rarely does, when I just can't wait to get to the party. I don't go to parties much. It's just not the sort of thing that happens in my life. It's not that I'm not being invited to them and they're happening all around me. They just don't occur here and therefore, if one comes about, it might be novel and something different, but it's still something that doesn't feel urgent, as if it were something I'd just been waiting to have happen. It's just another party and it will be a long time before there's another one. Maybe showing up late, or taking a non-reaction sort of attitude into a gala is just a way of prolonging the thing, or of underestimating how well it's going to go over, secretly hoping that it will overwhelm and make for the best night in recent memory. It's all just a set-up. This is going to be great. This party is going to kill and we're ready for it to happen and not stop until the roosters crow. Austin-based trio Fresh Millions make me feel like I'm missing so many parties that I would love and they make it hurt a little bit. The music on the band's self-titled, debut full-length gives off the feeling that we're like the white rabbit, late for that very important date. We're all missing out if we're not rushing for the door, getting in that cab, car or subway and hightailing it to the address in that text that came hours ago, out of nowhere, telling you to get to this certain spot tonight, that you wouldn't be sorry if you did because you know who was going to be there and god knows what else was going to happen. The music is an invitation full of intangibles, all sorts of draws and drags on different moods and energies, all engaging and all inviting, letting us get carried away the second that the music begins, as if it were the friendly face of that stranger that met you at the door of the party and threw a plastic cup of keg beer into your hand the second you entered the place. Fresh Millions music makes you feel that there is a rush to get to wherever this is playing, as if there's an endless string of possibilities awaiting you if you were to do so. You need to be there and then the music can help you. It can take you in the right direction and make sure that you're alright, that the fates will align, if just for that one night, though the music does leave it all open-ended, seemingly replicable whenever it's needed. The vocals that exist are little flavor crystals, just bits to chew on, to unlock the bigger joys of the heavily electronic outpouring of movement and what seems to be joy. It feels like throwback electronic music, meant for the express purpose of making nights of smiles and happy bodies. It's insistent upon you taking advantage of it.