Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews of Communion Music at 2KHz, Crouch End, London
The waking life and the other one are a bit tricky to differentiate in a JAWS song. There's also the walking life and the one of sedentary being that's similar in appearance, or in sound. We might be on the couch with lead singer Connor Schofield and the rest of the London quartet, giving the keenest observations from their chosen vantage points - chiming in with recaps from the overnight hours, when everything was coming unraveled and then just lying there, relatively motionless and quiet as an attic.
Fuck, it could just be that all the waking and all the sleeping are just vagrants, messing each other up, slipping into each other's homes, sitting at each other's tables and sneaking cold pieces of chicken out of the fridge without any sort of detection. It could just be that there's no difference whatsoever, we'd just prefer that there was one for us to discuss and pick apart.
The Birmingham band makes a more cool mint version of the 1990s slacker rock and roll that New Jersey's Real Estate makes. It's hung more on a slightly more electronic hook, but it operates a bit the same way, with this grab bag of fly-by emotions that are considerably droopy and full of that sensation of whatever-ness, while still maintaining all kinds of importance. It's that importance that rests within the chest of anything that comes from a kid young enough to know he's still a kid, even if people are already mistaking him for a man.
JAWS Official Site