Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews at 2KHz at Church Studios, Crouch End, London
It's funny what can make you feel like you're getting somewhere and it's interesting how little it takes for you to feel as if you're accelerating away from anything meaningful. One second, you're fine, you're stable, and the next you've been delivered a concussion, or an undressing. The pendulum has swung and the effort to get it back to where you'd like it to hang is too much for you to deal with. A huge cloud has passed in front of the sun and the room goes suddenly shadowy, into a depression.
It's similar to when Theme Park lead singer, Miles Haughton, sings, "Watch you smoke in silence against a darkening sky." You're watching that darkening sky - staring at rolling, really - as the exhaled smoke is added to it, a lightening agent. It does nothing to alter the mood though. It sticks and the smoke worms its way into the crowded and thick blackness. These are the days that make you want to just throw a ladder against the side of the fucking house, climb all of the rungs, step off onto the first row of shingles, kick the ladder down to the ground below and just perch up there for the length of the day, or night, depending on your arrival. You're not going anywhere and you kind of like it that way. You'll remain up there, jutting your head into too many flight patterns, into the long-established paths of the bats.
Theme Park is partially committed to the darkened phases and mostly interested in what comes next. The London-based band's songs are not distraught, but more the tentative response to the sunken sighs. Haughton sings, "We've got the love/We've got the night/We've got the time/We've got the fight," so we know there's going to be another stab at ironing out the creases and the wrinkles. It's about slowly feeling better and regaining the thrills that used to be counted on. They're thinking about going out dancing. The anticipation is tepid, for know, but there's much hope that the dancing might do it. It might make coming down off the roof worth it and it just might bring a better answer to the question, "Can you feel anything?"