Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Shawn Biggs at Studio Paradiso, Calif.
The air burns bright orange in a Milo Greene song. It burns with passion and heart and it keeps burning. My dad, this morning, made the strangest comment around the breakfast table. He said that the thing that he can't understand is how the sun can burn for millions and millions of years without oxygen, in a vacuum, nor how it never decreases in size. Now, surely there are very simple - albeit complicated to have discovered - reasons for those things (or he could be full of shit and I could be a moron for not calling him on the validity of anything he just said), but we thought a bit about an ever-burning star in something of a drowsy/stunned silence for just a second today. Ever-burning is a key feature to the songwriting style and mood creation of California's Milo Greene.
The on-going flames and the etched in memory people of past days and previous loves are impossible to ignore when Andrew Heringer, Robbie Arnett and Marlana Sheetz sing. The softness of a face - not even one that's standing before them, but one that's formulating strictly from memory - is enough to stop any of the harmonizing singers in their tracks. They can't possibly move on from it once that image has set in for them. They're taken aback once again and everything's gotten heavy, under the touch of the softness. They're usually happy to stay there, wonderfully trapped in that pained, but charmed thought. They sing on the song, "Cutty Love," "I've slipped softly through/All I've waited for, my dear, is you/Even if your heart stops/I'll be there to hold you up/Even as the world turns/I'll be there to watch the fire/Burn/Burn us both alive," and it sounds like there's a plan for when things ever get too tough, when there's just one last person to rely on.