Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
The bright lights of the big city are surpassed only by the dark shadows that they press out onto the pavement, into the streets and over the gutters. The people wandering around are used to create many of them and the rest are just cast from the miscellany of man -- the structures, the oaks and elms and the modes of transit. The shadows are harsher when they carry no meaning, when they're cold and transparent, as if they will accept anything that passes through or into them as kindred. They exist as the interactions that people take from one another. There are those that are spoiled before they've even begun -- the frigid brushes with other human beings. Others become sacred and they are perhaps the only ones to really care about. They're the only ones that need mentioning or deserve recognition. Even these shadows and their respective relationships can come across as being barren and hollow when looked at from the wrong angle.
These tricky shadows are the ones that New York's Semi Precious Weapons deal with primarily in their newest collection of songs -- tales of bittersweet interaction and uncomfortable awareness. Lead singer Justin Tranter sings with a hushed, breathy dreaminess that makes you sense as if you're looking out at a world that's about to meet its end, or a flock of the huddled masses, shivering, but knowing that there's love out there for them somewhere. They just can't see it yet, or it's blurred out but feels mysteriously close, closer than they can stomach. The people in these songs are holding on for dear life. They are begging for love and the touch. They want something more tangible than a feeling that passes through them and flies off like a sigh.