Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews of Communion Music at 2KHz, Crouch End, London
The boys in Swim Deep are neurotic about love. They're neurotic about the way that it feels like the sun, when they have it. They are drawn to that feeling of love as bright and sunny and the knowledge it can be more overcast, all the while promising to break into sun within the next few hours. It keeps them in a state of immersion, of shaky sustainability. That overcast love is alright just the same, they figure, for it's a reminder of the other way that it can be. There are heavy washes of the good and brief flashes of the overcast, checking every second of the day.
You get the feeling, as you travel through these songs - picking up tiny grains of salt on the bottoms of your feet as you go - that there is great puzzlement as to why love, as it is, is such a blessing, always masquerading as a curse, as something that's going to get you. We are prepared to see it go south. We are ready for it to hit us below the belt, but so far…the sun is shining and it's a nice, nice day.
They sing, "We'll never know what love is/All we know is that love is/When you're really that happy to see me," here, but you don't get the impression that they're in the dark about what the emotion consists of. They're very familiar with the complexities and vagaries of it. They're sure that they can't predict nor contain it. It's going to work on them however it's going to work on them. They're just hoping for the good sun to keep smiling on their lucky asses.
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