Last Dinosaurs has found a rhythmic succession over the last decade, one that’s plucked them out of Australia, pulled them through the eye of the European needle, off to write in ancient Japanese ghost towns, onto America’s most iconic stages, and somehow grounded them in the middle of a sacred loophole - a ring of fire, really - that few artists find. They call it a loophole because it hasn’t been linear, it hasn’t been promoted, it hasn’t been announced and popularized and pushed through the press. Blame it on the Latino and Asian kids streaming the sh*t out of their trifecta of indie-rock records or the internet’s international party knuckles banging at their digital door 24/7, but Last Dinosaurs are erupting. They’ve all felt it onstage and backstage in every sold-out sanctuary of sound they have ripped through.