Driving anywhere in Texas can cost you half a day, easy. For example,rnit'll take you over four hours just to get from R&B singer Leon Bridges'rnhometown of Fort Worth down to Houston, where the psychedelicrnwanderers in Khruangbin hail from. The state is vast, crisscrossed withrnrugged expanses of road flanked by limestone cliffs and graniternmountains, forests of pine and mesquite, miles of desert or acres ofrnsprawling grassland, all depending on what part you're in. And it's allrnbaking under the Texas Sun that lends its name to Bridges andrnKhruangbin's new collaborative EP. "Big sky country, that's what they callrnTexas," Khruangbin bassist Laura Lee says. "The horizon line goes allrnthe way from one side to another without interruption. There's somethingrnreally comforting about that." On Texas Sun, these two members of thernstate's musical vanguard meet up somewhere in the middle of that scene,rnin the mythical nexus of Texas' past, present, and future-a dreamyrnbadlands where genres blur as seamlessly as the terrain. It calls equallyrnto the cowboys boot-scooting at Billy Bob's in Fort Worth, the choppedand-screwed hip-hop fans rattling slabs on the southside of Houston, thernart-school kids dropping acid in Austin, the cross-cultural progeny whorngrew up on listening to both mariachi and post-hardcore out on thernMexican borders of El Paso. All of these things, overlapping in arnmulticolored melange, purple hues as vivid and unpredictable as one ofrnthe state's rightfully celebrated sunsets. A journey through homesickrnreminiscences, backseat romances, and late-night contemplations, thernkind of record made for listening with the windows down and the roadrnhumming softly beneath you. Like the highways that inspired it, TexasrnSun is guaranteed to get you where you're going-especially if you're in nornparticular hurry to get there.