By Team Backbeat
By Amber Taufen
By Jon Solomon
By Tom Murphy
By Jesse Livingston
By Alejandra Loera
By Stephanie March
By Tom Murphy
When asked if there has been any notable pandemonium that the Icarus Line has provoked lately, North gets suspicious. "So you're fishing for some kind of crazy anecdote, right?" he charges. "See, this what we do now: We have all these antics, but we keep them secret. Yeah, we've been doing all kinds of crazy shit, but I'm not going to tell you about it."
His voice suddenly starts to cut out yet again, but this time it's not because of some misalignment of T-Mobile satellites. After a full eight minutes of interrogative agony, North is ready to leap off the Q&A train. "So is that it?" he asks eagerly without waiting for an answer. "I gotta go eat right now."
The phone clicks twice and spits out a cold dial tone. Luckily for the Icarus Line, though, there's no need for anyone in the band to rattle on endlessly about what it does, what it did or what it hopes to do. Regardless of all the myth and shit-talking heaped upon the group, its music burns, bleeds, screams -- and, yes, even speaks -- for itself.
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