Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews of Communion Music at 2KHz, Crouch End, London
No matter who you are and no difference if you care for the taste of the stuff or not, there are those days when everyone can absolutely appreciate it when you goddamn crave a nice, cold beer. It must have been one of those days that just had you by the stones all day. It was a real bitch of a 10-12 hours and nothing's going to bring you back to a happy place quicker than tallying up a few brewskis, or what have you, and letting it take over your bloodstream some. You just need to come down a little bit. The men of UK band Scoundrels are these sorts of highly-strung lads and they're quick to admit it. They're pressurized and they're nothing but casings full of organs and liquids all churning and smashing together, creating all sorts of unspeakable friction and heat that needs to be displaced. They need the space to blow. They need to just let themselves get into one of those sexy weekends that they sing about.
The way that the Scoundrels look at it, they're bound for the saggy part of the couch, if they don't do something about it, if they don't take matters into their own hands. These guys make you think that nights could potentially never end, as if days were really more in the ballpark of 30-34 hours long. They make you believe that you can make it all the way to the next morning feeling no ill effects of what you're putting yourself through tonight. It might just be that you're invincible, even if the DJ is playing shitty music and you're a little bit lonely. The loneliness might be self-inflicted, but the night that you're getting yourself into is too and it can be better than that. It could turn into that something that you've been hanging on for. You've been clinging onto that hope that you'll make it to that point where it turns and where you're able to say to her, in that smooth way that you've got in reserve, "You can come close dear/Rest in my pits."
Scoundrels music is a thousand times over this smooth, moonlight blue cool. They sound like Van Morrison, back in his heyday, as if he already knew that there were going to be bands like The Strokes and The Vaccines someday. You're not exactly sure how the beers are going to take hold, or if anything is going to work itself out, but you're willing to give yourself over to the possibility and see what could happen. They sing, "Well, I might as well make the best of the situation/As I hug on my pillow and I sip on my beer/I know I haven't had this much fun/Stuck in a Facebook before/And I'm beginning to hit bull's eye on that picture of you that I put up by the door," and that doesn't sound like the worst kind of loneliness at all.