Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
Mutts lead singer Mike Maimone seems like a man who can go from resting, from sitting on the couch experiencing little to nothing, to suddenly having his brain and everything connected to it light up like the Las Vegas Strip, like all of the pull machines and marquees hitting jackpots. He goes from a tame resting heart rate, living beneath a harvest moon, to pure adrenaline -- instantaneously.
He goes from zero to a hundred quicker than most. He takes off on his rants. He removes his arms and starts hitting himself across the head with them. He questions that anyone around still gives a damn about him and his friends and loved ones, so the idea of just burning everything down and just taking in the love that damages pretty heavily anyway would be the best use of the time. He'll just throw that barroom piano over into the corner of the room and rowdily bang on it as the flames climb the walls and get into the ceiling, where they can really begin their engulfment.
Mutts music embraces the inner turmoil, the things that are striven for, the ways that we fall short, the ways we're let down, as well as the few things that spark us back onto the right track, even if those are the rare moments, the briefest of comebacks.