Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Josh Niles at Big Light, Nashville, Tennessee
The loping feel to "Lover," creates a dusty mood, a mood of transferrable energy. It's the mood of a merciful escape, or one that signifies a shifting of gears. It's the feeling of getting behind the wheel and not caring about the price of gasoline, not knowing which direction is which - willing to take any of them. It's a feeling of breeze-shifting, moving out and turning the surface of the tires warm and nimble.
It's something like a new start, even if the one being portrayed here, by the Nashville, Tennessee, band The Kingston Springs is one of an old start that's ending mostly messily. It's not a clean retreat, but it's one that has been decided upon with at least one clear conscious. The man singing, laying out how it's going to be is explaining, as delicately as he can, how this is all going to work out for the better. She might be upset right now, but in short order, she's going to realize that she's much better off without him in her life. She should be counting her lucky stars that he was hitting the road and rolling on down it like Burt Reynolds, as the Bandit.
The guy knows his deficiencies and he's sure that he's doing this poor babe a favor by splitting town. This self-awareness is evident in most of these scuffed up rock and roll songs that The Kingston Springs pop off. They are written from the points of view of men who know that they've got all kinds of faults and they probably aren't going away. Even with that said, they're quick to spot the problem areas in the people they're mingling with as well. No one's immune to the very basic, self-preservative tendencies of animals. They will do everything they can to get what they want and that's always going to leave a mark.