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Just a high school kid with dreams of the big time while making half-decent music which at least sounds good to my ears

Nobody really knows what Piqué is. Some say they were created in a lab by scientists; others insist they’re a product of alchemy, smooth saxophone and screeching guitars spun into gold. Either way, one thing is certain: they exist in a vacuum, not beholden to the laws of space and time, outside genre conventions, destroying preconceived notions of what five 18-year-old boys can achieve. A humble suburban shed is the incubator in which Piqué were formed, the crystal beaker that they were poured out of. Micah Poulton-King is the driving force behind the band, a celestial cloud rapidly expanding, absorbing microcosms of influence and creating new entities from the dust. From the base materials of punk’s raw aggression and jazz’s fluid improvisation, Micah concocts an end result that sounds seamless; despite the opposed nature of the two genres, it just makes sense. An integral part of this is Piqué’s focus on collaboration: Micah surrounds himself with collaborators, each leaving