When Bar Italia hit the Dean Blunt-starved Zillennial masses like a fucking atom bomb, skeptics accused the disaffected trio of coming off as too cool for their own good. We can argue over whether Tracey Denim has held up, but I’d counter that what made the band stand out in the first place wasn’t some effortless sense of style, but rather how awkward and discomforting they all seemed. Though their references may have been extremely well-worn, their pitchy singing, bizarre fashion choices, and sweet-but-slightly-off songwriting made them poster children for a growing generation of artists whose rock-star fantasies were shaped from late nights spent scrolling soon-to-be-shuttered blogs.
One such band is Los Angeles’ untitled (halo), who have been dogged by Bar Italia…

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