Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Shawn Biggs at Studio Paradiso, San Francisco, California
We spend the vast majority of our lives floundering. It's not done in a pathetic, desperate, get-me-a-floatation-device-or-a-rope sort of way, but more in that interesting, self-discovery sort of way. We just chip away at some kind of a shape that we see ourselves getting to eventually. Most normal people, when they're putting together a puzzle don't glaze the finished scene with glue and keep it that way forever, making it possible to break it all up and begin again. We tend to preserve little and find new ways to get drunk and new people to do it with. It's pressing on. It's experiencing whatever there is to experience.
Pennsylvania band Modern Baseball rues and cherishes the flimsy standing of youth, young manhood and whatever comes after that -- most of which is just as confusing and jarring. They passionately celebrate the exciting Friday and Saturday nights of our former years, of nasty keg beer, of overactive romantic imaginations, awkward come-ons and beautiful regrets. They are sentiments that will never wane totally. They were formative and important and we still think of them often -- of the way that our loneliness then was a similar loneliness to that which we occasionally feel these nights, even when we think that it's impossible. We're just an older version of that other person, stuck with everything that came before and all that's to come.