Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
Sometimes, when we get around to doing a little spring cleaning over here - when we flip the mattresses and open the shutters for the first time since the colder months set in - some interesting things pop up. There we were, rummaging through the cabinets and we happened upon a Herman Dune recording that somehow got folded there in between the couch and the wall. It was just hanging out with the dust bunnies and a bunch of crud that we didn't want.
The rescuing of this session - something we most definitely and you most certainly DO want - was thanks in no small part to the Rock Island Fire Department, whose jaws of life pried the tape from its purgatory and placed it back into safe hands. This heroic act made it so that these idiosyncratic and talky, ruminating songs by Parisians David-Ivar Herman Dune and Néman Herman Dune could get back into the light of day.
They make us feel that summer is actually here. They make us feel like storms are brewing OR that they've already burned through here and the drops are slowing from the corners of the awnings. It's time to figure out what's for dinner and it's long past when the first bottle of wine should have been popped. They sing us into the twilight hours, as only they can, with verve and subtle vitality.