Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Grant Johnson at Good Danny's, Austin, Texas
We succumb to the workings of Quilt before we're even sure what's overcome us.
We blink and we're not sure how they got us here.
We're standing in the middle of a low stream and we're getting jostled around a bit as the current's playing roughly. The shifting sand and mud at our feet is cold and it's trying to pull us into it more than we already are. We use our arms to balance and start walking for the shoreline, where the sandbar is.
It's hard not to notice that there's a bleeding sun sinking down over the horizon in the western distance. It looks like it's been bashful or angry for quite some time now and it's going to be a good thing for it to deal with some different scenery and different people for a few hours before returning to try it all again with this lot.
It's hard not to feel that we've been here before. This all feels as if its kicking our nostalgia into gear. Maybe that's just a déjà vu thing, but it feels closer than just a grasping at something that once was, somewhere that we passed lifetimes ago.
John Andrews, Anna Rochinski, Keven Lareau and Shane Butler, of this band from Boston, Massachusetts, call to mind those very moments that we have a hard time placing, but they've gotten so entangled with all of the other things that we feel that we remember fondly or more vividly and we can't help but feel as if we're getting manipulated, in a good way. It's a confusion of properties, of having our recollections toyed with, but feeling like there may be no deceit occurring whatsoever. We hear things and feel things in these songs that call to mind moments we've had, but situations we can't really place. We know that they are there, but they're elusive. These songs feel like a burning out, like one long ash, like silence will come and find us again, but for now, we're getting the wash.
*Essay originally published October, 2012
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