Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews of Communion Music at 2KHz at Church Studios, Crouch End, London
Thumbing through a book tonight, this morning, whenever the fuck it is anymore, listening to the Manchester group Coves & Caves makes certain words hang more in the air than they usually might. The band has a way of making those moments fraught with anxiety and with gravity feel like they could be put into more of a context, with the right words and the right inflections. As we would have it tonight, we're left with a mushy head and grainy eyes. We've been snowed under with too much stress and a heat wave that's simply criminal - sweat on sweat on sweat, dripping through sleeves and drawers. When we come across the three-line poem by Robert Friend, entitled, "My Cup," we stop in our tracks, the eyes pausing at the final period and then return to the top to reread. It goes like this:
"They tell me I am going to die.
Why don't I seem to care?
My cup is full. Let it spill."
With those lines, with the nonchalance exhibited and that rational take on getting through and taking everything for what it's worth, Friend pens such words that seem meant to explain the tidal waves that Coves & Caves detail on its song, "Now We're Pioneers," as well as aspects of many others. Let it spill. Let it spill.