The man at the centre of the sprawling 11-piece band that is Oregon’s sweet musical version of a tropical cyclone is Kyle Morton, whose serious flirtation with mortality as a child due to Lyme disease informs his musical creations. Marked by a horn and string sections and eclectic percussion, Typhoon exudes a boisterous optimism and familial charm that veils the band’s dystopian themes. It’s a dichotomous combination that makes their music entrancing, serving as both warning and celebration of mortality.
Typhoon's sound is characterized by beautiful, complicated arrangements and careful orchestration. Live performances masterfully combine indie rock instrumentals and vocals with violins, percussion, hand claps, xylophone, horns and a choir of other instruments. Kyle notes that it’s thanks to his bandmates that his songs aren’t simply a bunch of quasi-apocalyptic ramblings. He calls them ‘a very bewildered man's attempt to explain the universe, to himself, in the language of bewilderment, and his recordings a collection of seminal life moments, in more or less chronological order, glimpsed backwards in the pale light of certain death, brought to life by a remarkable group of people.’