Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
A lot of times we just don't take the time to think about all of the things that our bodies are doing at any given time, but if you take just a second to imagine them, you could find it to be bad for you. You start to think about the constant burden of the lungs having to breathe in and breathe out every couple of seconds, every goddamn couple of seconds of your life, from that first second of being exposed to the cold outdoors, with the mucus and the fluids getting expelled from them with a few worried, but hearty wails. You think about the task of that and of the heart to keep its beat and you could start hyperventilating, wondering how it all keeps happening, without fail, until the day that it all fails at once and you click off for good. The music that makes up this third session from the incredible Los Angeles-based and Barnstormer 5 performing band, Princeton, is the kind of collection that allows you to take stock in these very needless, but engrossing internal commiserations. Largely experimental and absent of the finishing touches that can be found on its great full-length, "Cocoon of Love," these three songs make you curious about what it takes to get the hairs to prick up on the forearms and what it takes for the heart to skip or for the loss of consciousness. They make you wonder what it's like to move along with the blood shifting from here-to-there in the veins, as if they were scenic roads, covering hundreds and hundreds of open miles, passing groves of trees and almost-ready fields of corn and wheat, rustling together in a symphony. They make you think of electricity and what it feels like to be lit up with it. They bring beaches and snowy mountaintops into the room and they illuminate the juxtaposition with implied sways of there being no right way to think about any of it. These compositions are mostly bare and for you to live within, to see what they can give you.