Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Shawn Biggs at Studio Paradiso, San Francisco, California
Who among us isn't consumed by the bleariness of everything? It's all just a crash and burn these days. All is expendable and weightless, even the good stuff, the stuff that's neither trite nor boring. It all just gets pulled into an enclosed space where the only option is for it to burst, to rupture and splatter far and wide, shooting shrapnel out to passerby and turf. It's thrilling and exhausting to live like this, by the whole you only live once movement, mantra, whatever it can be called is overwhelming. There is love that needs to be claimed and there are people to befriend and keep, daylight hours to reap and nighttime chatter to sew, but without any objective, the value of it all diminishes considerably.
The lessons that I think we can learn through the delightful Los Angeles-based band Blondfire are that we must separate ourselves from that which we take in these circumstances and that which we're given. The songs that the brother-sister duo of Bruce and Erica Driscoll write include the chillest of intentions. They float youth and passion out there, giving high regard to them, while still acknowledging how slippery and brief they turn out to be. Everything just bleeds together, but rather than turning into darkness, it tends to amount to something more golden, something that makes us squint.