Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews at 2KHz at Church Studios, London
The ways that The Boxer Rebellion goes about adorning the silences that surrounds it is by suggesting augmentations that should never be rejected by the silence - as would a new organ or an implant - but rather be accepted as kinfolk. The London-based group dresses up the existing silence with spots that support what was attempting to be accomplished by the well-spoken dead air. It's like warm water mingling with more warm water. Soon enough, there's no difference in temperature and no telling the two waters apart. It's just one warm water flowing through your ears, cleaning you out, relieving all of the pressure that's been built up inside of your skull and chest.
Lead singer Nathan Nicholson has a way of nurturing the subtleties of a spring rain that lasts for weeks. He lets the air stay a charcoal gray, the darkness creep into every hour of the daylight. He loves it when the nighttime is his daytime playmate. He prefers it. He would rather needing to wear a coat, a scarf and carry an umbrella than lather on sunblock, throw on a pair of shades and remove clothing to stay comfortable. He would prefer to always feel as if he were on edge, shaking a little bit from potential danger than getting complacent and settled in. It's one thing to be harmed and it's another to just feel like it might be bearing down on you, tripping you when you least expect it. He just wants to be able to get his hands out to cushion the fall a little bit, to let his palms get skinned up, instead of losing a tooth or teeth. It feels as if there's precaution in his voice and in Boxer Rebellion songs, as if they've seen some things and they'll be damned if they let those things happen to them, or happen again another time.