Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews of Communion Music at 2KHz, Crouch End, London
The darkness has moved in, squeezing the folks in Blood Red Shoes in at the sides. It's been enough to turn them paranoid. It's been enough to cloud them sour. It's enough to cloud everything completely over - like painting the windows and boarding up the doors. They are mostly unable to see the surface as they fall like dead weight into the blackening waters. It's not that they've been anchored, but their legs and arms are worthless here.
They keep falling, plunging deeper and deeper, eyes bulging bigger the further they go, their chests feeling the pressure and their heads knowing that now is the time to kick and scream and thrash through this predicament. It all seems very grim, as if there's going to be no coming back from this. Laura-Mary Carter and Steven Ansell, of the group from Brighton, England, have covered their songs with an industrial sized helping of defeated bumming, of getting the short end of the stick too many times. They sing on "Lost Kids," "And I can't find my way/Already buried anyway," and we're not certain whether there would even be a desire to get themselves unburied and out from within that hole. It might not be all that depressing. There's no need to "step out into the daylight." No one needs to feel that blinding blast.