An intoxicating gumbo of global soul, surf noir, and psychedelic funk, all filtered through a vintage, analog haze. Listening to Gitkin feels like stumbling across a forgotten reel-to-reel in a dusty Havana pawn shop or a smoky Marseilles speakeasy. There’s a deep sense of wanderlust baked into every groove — part spaghetti western, part funk exotica, with twangy guitars that slither like snakes through a desert bazaar.