Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
Some people just get to us.
They make us feel resilient.
Or they make us as shaky as the hands of an alcoholic.
They make us alcoholics. Might explain our hands.
They make us forget to breathe. They take our breath away.
We feel one with them and we'd like to think that we're not the only ones.
We find that it all feels bittersweet, even when it's right.
The relationships that the teenage Von Grey sisters of Atlanta, Georgia, write about skew to the purer side of things. The oldest of the sisters is 17 years old, so they're knee-deep in the concept and context of what it means to be torn apart by love. The emotion's wavering and fair-weather qualities are tough to deal with, for even the eldest of participants. The condition is always capable of turning you into pudding, making you scream yourself crimson or shake your head all the way to bed, where you just cover yourself and wish the night over. Fiona and Annika Von Grey, the two principle songwriters of the group, write about what it means to want and to need someone, often for reasons that aren't and might not be clear for quite some time. It's just a feeling that's out there, fluttering like snow flurries. It's strange and it's confusing and it's liable to always be that way.