Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews of Communion Music at 2KHz, Crouch End, London
It all catches up to us sooner rather than later.
Today, for instance, many of us have filled ourselves with so much damned coffee to compensate for our reckless sleep patterns that we're shuddering ever so gently. We notice it when we hold pens or climb down ladders. There's ever so slight of a buzz flowing through the veins in our arms that we feel off. It's what we've made for ourselves, however, this shakiness, this need to always be functioning, to be progressing and winning and succeeding at all costs. It's the desire to waste not one second of any day or night, but rather to ring them so tightly that they're dry as bones when we're through with them - turned into dust and microscopic skin particles.
UK singer and songwriter Humphrey Milles takes us to that place where we can't stifle the yearnings or shut down that desperate urge to keep going, to keep persisting and burning it at both ends. He sings about losing himself in his fury, but it's not just his own fury. It's a catch-all of furies, much of it impressed on all of us. It slumps us over and sinks us as much as we will allow. It's that thought that nothing's ever good enough, that we need more and more and more.
As he sings on "Not Enough," "We want it all." Everything and everyone's turned in a variation of dangerous wanting and the fights go on, long into our nights, where there's no surrender. We'll just force ourselves into exhaustion, into bloodshot-eyed pity because we aren't living up to anything. He suggests maybe, "Rest a while/We'll meet again my lonely friend."