It's a cool, blue fever played by Omaha group Icky Blossoms. The fever is teased and it's submitted to. It's the pulsing of a troublesome notion, beating itself out from beneath the skin, from deep down in the soil, churning itself up to the surface with a persistent thrust. It's the notion of banging around a town, a little directionless, a little off. It's not a story of unhappiness, but more one of needing something more. There's emptiness involved with the moods of the dark and shadowy characters in these songs. There may be nothing more than driving around, picking up hamburgers and beer to do, but there's an unspoken hope that something could crack the doldrums across the head and see if anything better might spill out. Icky Blossoms, the new collective formed by Derek Pressnall (of Tilly and the Wall), Nik Fackler (primarily a film writer and director, whose 2008 film "Lovely, Still," starred Martin Landau) and Sarah Bohling in what was claimed to be the blizzards of 2011, find the devil in the details. They actually try to find the devil in a lot of places, but they just keep it to themselves. They seem to speak to the frustrated lots who are looking for spirit and life in places where there's "nothing to do but get high in the afternoon," as Pressnall sings on "Perfect Vision." It's that glowing analysis that comes from an optimist, a father of two. It's all just a construct, a manipulation of feelings - some that have likely been hanging around for decades, those that are hard to ever shake free of. They are the feelings of suffocated youth of wishful recklessness, of needed revolt, all stifled - either personally for good reason or by external forces through natural sustainment. They sing, "Is it raining/Is it snowing/Am I coming/Am I going/Is it raining/Is it snowing/Am I shrinking/Am I growing." It's just a growing old problem. It's getting buried two feet down, under a heap of responsibilities and pains, and knowing that you're only a third dead, but still 2/3rds alive so you're left with the thought that you'll stick with this sweaty, midnight of a dance.