It's Valentine's Day and Samuel T. Herring is onstage at New York's Bowery Ballroom, splitting open his soul – as well as the crotch of his pants and the sleeve of his navy button-down. Sweat blooms around the curve of his back as he jabs, kicks and body-rolls along to his own existential grief.
"So many sad songs on Valentine's Day," the
This article originally appeared on www.rollingstone.com: Future Islands: The Unlikely Rise of Baltimore’s Heartache Kings