Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
This is when the light barely breaks into your morning room.
It's when it politely barges in.
This is when the light stays away from you when all you're looking for is the darkest room imaginable.
It's when it respects wishes, for once.
This is when you feel alive but beat up - maybe the reason you feel alive, as you know no other way.
This is a feeling that feels personal.
The collage of sounds that Chicago duo Supreme Cuts, made up of Mike Perry and Austin Keultjes, make and then put together rounds itself out as a solitary dive off the springboard. It's taking a dip in a pool that you have all to yourself. The water is as clear as any you've ever seen in your life and no one's ever touched it. No one's touched it before you and no one will touch it after you. It's just sitting there, a blue spill resting in a big hole in the ground. No one will see you jump in. No one will comment on the amount or lack of splash that you make. There's a piece of dialogue in this particular set that crops up a few times, where a man is speaking about the emergence of new butterflies. Some of the words get lost, but he seems to be making a comparison of such a thing to aspects of his life. He says, "The butterfly are very beautiful flying objects," before continuing and finishing the thought with, "Then I just keep going on and on." A guy like that might join you in that pool of virgin water. He might appreciate the light breaking politely into the morning room, or none at all.