Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews of Communion Music at 2KHz, Crouch End, London
Escapologists lead singer Neil Wells sings, "I sleep light, when it is light," and he goes on to tell us that he sleeps all day long. The sleep he's referring to sounds frustrating and accomplished in ugly fits and starts. It's what you get when you're trying to steal sleep. There's nothing like sleeping when no one else is. It's what sick people do - those miserable folks who just can't lift themselves out of bed or the nausea will overtake them and drop them on their rumps. It's not for healthy people to do such a thing. They should be working or tanning or something.
Wells, guitarist Pete Fletcher and guitarist/keyboardist Nick Davis create a new manner of thinking about the afternoon nap, with the Escapologists' brand of dreary, rainy day music. It seems to chuckle at anyone who thinks that going outdoors today is going to be worth doing. These are sensations of being rained out, stuck in a house without power and all of the books on the shelves have already been read.
These people look at the clocks and they see that it's only 3 o'clock, but everything looks like midnight already and there's nothing else they can do with the storm in town, so they sleep. They guiltily slip between the covers and it comes to them quickly, but they can't help feeling that they're doing something they shouldn't be doing. They wake often. They fall back asleep just as often and as easily. It's this slipping in and out of consciousness, an undulating settling. It's finding confidence in knowing that there's an easy way to escape, to just melt away from everything. The lighter, the better.