The beauty of Casiotone for the Painfully Alone is in the dichotomy. It's just one person named Owen, and he writes extremely endearing pop songs about love and crushes on Casios and other thrifted/dumpstered keyboards. What keeps it from being cloying is partially because he's so remarkably earnest and shy onstage. Mostly, though, Casiotone rocks because of his utter disregard for sound quality; it seems as if he takes joy in forcing the audience to listen to the buzz of static and other piercing noises randomly presenting themselves in front of his cute melodies. It's extreme--really sweet and fucked up at once--both lo-fi and caustic. He may be a situationist genius.