Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Shawn Biggs at Studio Paradiso, San Francisco, California
Whether we want to or not, some of become the chandeliers in the room, hanging down, dragging into some stale air, watching as the time passes. We become machines -- functioning as efficiently as our worn parts are capable of. We put off going to the doctor if only because we suspect there's definitely something wrong with us and we don't want to hear it. We feel our blood go icy and hard, thick and sharp against the walls of our veins, while we ignore that it's happening. We avoid the human contact that we know we need, just because of all the complications that are sure to arise afterward.
ASTR songs are chock full of these moments of strife, of still getting out there into the murky scene on the dance floor, while swimming/drowning in troubles. They deal with the fickleness of other people and the self. They look around for others to join them -- to commiserate -- and there are plenty of times when the hand never gets taken. It's on those occasions when we forge alone. Nights and the people in them are teetering, ready to fall into oblivion in these songs, but there always seems to be a lifeline, one last gasp, one more party to get buried in.