Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews of Communion Music at 2KHz, Crouch End, London
There is some mention of brokenheartedness in Turnpike Glow songs, but I see no evidence of such a condition really existing. It certainly has not tainted the people singing such words. It's not spilled over them like a shaken up bottle of Coca-Cola, opened at the steering wheel, while pulling away from the store, left with nothing but the lap and arm to accept the wet, brown spill. These people seem to be clean of the brokenheartedness. Of course, it's something that people have taught themselves how to hide or mask. They've gotten quite good at it, over the centuries, passing the art of deflection or diversion down through the generations, making sure that it's been engineered into the genes that they've given their wee models.
The London-based band - featuring Giuseppe La Mela and Sandro Schiena on vocals/bass/guitar, drummer Anthony Hutchinson and second guitarist/backup vocalist Tom Griffiths - tends to focus on the surrounding particles of the heartbroken emotion, rather than the end result, if they do at all. They present their findings in a blaze of blown out sunshine, shining it directly into our eyes so that we have to shield the peepers, but don't have to do a thing with the ears but just let it seep in and take over. It's a malted take on the endorphins that already played themselves out and have moved away. They still pack enough of a punch that they're able to still be bright and loud and mostly thrilling still. There are the memories of the way the sun shone off of some naked skin, after a hypnotic slipping out of her clothing. There is still every reason to believe that this can all revert and we can be swept back into the beforehand - and it's that which keeps these people still humming and singing under their breaths.