Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Matt Oliver, Mastered by Sam Patlove
I spent a lot of time walking the streets around my house this afternoon. It was one of those days, in the middle of winter, when it doesn't feel anything like spring, but it feels a little like a reprieve from winter, at the least. It wasn't unseasonable, or maybe it was. What I'm getting at is that it wasn't unbearable out there and some of the recent snowfall was most definitely and notably dying away, dragging itself to the curb and the nearest culvert, downhill from where it started out, in a different state. It was one of those days of false hope and all kinds of pretense. You're able to make yourself believe in things on days like these, just as you're able to make yourself believe in things that you shouldn't on those fall evenings that just love you up.
One of the things that I passed a number of times during all of the walking I was doing, was a tiny bird's nest stuck in the crook of a low-hanging branch on a minor little tree. The branch was leaning over a little bit and was just inches from any head that bops around beneath it some six feet and a little change above the ground. Of course, there were no birds currently living in it, off somewhere else, but the dinky home and a bit of a fit of imagining set me off in thinking about the Eux Autres songs that I'm currently listening to at the far end of a small university library on a Sunday night, surrounded on all sides by what look to be mostly unused reference materials.
Very little, if any of these makes me feel at all out-of-place, but the content of Eux Autres songs makes me think about those who get spun around and don't know how to un-spin. I imagine what would have happened had singers/brother and sister Heather and Nicholas Larimer of the San Francisco, California-based band found a blue and brown-speckled egg on the top of the snowy sidewalk, just below that little nest. They seem like the kind of people - after listening to a song such as "Molly" - who would have whole-heartedly believed that they could scoop that little egg up, take it home and bring it up, in whatever broken environment they could give the sweetie. The character of Molly is lost, just like that frozen goner of a bird would have been, though the girl was much less of a hopeless case. She might have been able to have been saved and Heather Larimer seems to want to push her in the right direction for the best shot at it. They give the context a jangly reassurance, though the girl is lost and out there, gone to Idaho with some stolen socks and a camel coat. Even with the wrongs that have been done, those who care about her just need her back at home, even if she might have a hard time believing it. Molly even feels related to the sentiment of the song, "Queenturner," just misguided, aimed at the wrong target. Just a bunch of lost nights and lost people, getting together to see what can come of it. It could just lead to a lot of aimless walking in a snowy winter blah.