Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
What you see is rarely what you get, when you're within the confines of the seductive and lovely, downtrodden stories that Time and Temperature's Val Glenn writes. They are the tales of the many two-faced people who are well aware of their strengths and their lures. They know what to bait their hooks with and they're also not so conniving to not turn out to be ruses either. They could just be accidentally covering everything they do in shadows. They might not know that they're doing it. They might absently behave, without ulterior motives. They might never sense the consequences of who they are or of what they're saying and doing. They might just go on as meddlers, as unaware fire starters.
Glenn sings about, "All those wolf teeth in your smile," the teeth belonging to someone that we're sure she's let in close enough so that they could be counted. What happens when one sees those kinds of teeth in a mouth that's sometimes shared? It will spook you, no doubt, but then you start running your own tongue across the tops of your own set of teeth and you notice the wolf teeth that you possess and you decide that you'll not be too hard on the person you're looking at. You'll allow them to stick around because at least you know they're there. They might do nothing but chew and eat, or they might just be for show. She sings about a lover who never does her any good and one could say that it might be deemed a successful pairing, for he's not going her any harm either. Later in "Brown and Blue," she solidifies this acceptable glow, singing:
"I want the silent nights now
Nothing deep inside to make us both surprised
and the evil that we never saw here
Might make it's last fall here."