Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
There are those times when the glint in your eye, that tiny sparkle that you'd long ago forgotten was there, is all that there is to fall back on. It tends to be that there's not much that can wipe it completely out of there. It hangs on with the greatest resiliency. It's something that you've always got, even when you're down to your last twenty bucks and you're shaking the cereal box for the dust at the bottom of it because it's all there is left.
Families could be broken, people strewn about every which way and there could be dark clouds surrounding the area, but there's usually a little something left in the reserves for times such as the ones that The Pollies sing about. They are times of reflection, on people who fucked up at times, but wanted nothing more than to either take it all back or to just get on with it and make the best of their lemons. They are the people who were getting by on the least amount that anyone knew how to get by on. They had empty pockets, but there was something and still is something in their chests that likely always will prevail, even in the most damaging of winds and the most disparaging of hours.
These are fortified people - men and women of incredible character - who are proof that good people stray down unfortunate paths and nothing's going to stop it from happening many times again, no matter how old they become. They're going to discover the real fucking crapshoot of love and how it doesn't make anything easy. In no way, shape or form will anyone ever get a pardon when it comes to such a thing and with that being perpetually unstable, there's nothing to do but hold your breath and remember the simpler times - when we were just drinking out of bottles and reading paperback books.
Pollies lead singer, Jay Burgess, sings, "Lovin' was nothin' that I could enjoy," maybe for the sole reason that there are too many nuances to mess with to ever feel comfortable and it's not right to always feel so edgy, but we try and coax ourselves into feeling that it's about as normal as it gets around here. We have to trick ourselves to not jump off a bridge when it feels like everything gets to crumbling and disintegrating. It's that little string, at the bottom of the shirt - that just looks bad dangling there, but when it's pulled, everything falls to pieces in a hurry. Or, you go the other way and don't fall apart. You let the string hang there, letting the failings linger - that secret ingredient.