Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
It's disgusting how old age -- even when it's not REAL old age -- sneaks up on you. There's a day when you're about as young as can be, without a responsibility in the world other than what, getting your homework done and making sure that your dirty clothes get thrown in the hamper so that someone else can launder them? It's a cushy life of begging for spending money and testing curfews, and it allows for a lot of available time for self-experimentation. You're able to try and figure out who you're supposed to be, what feels right, what kind of a friend you're going to be, how good of a kisser you or lots of other people are, how to be decent, how to be loving and what it means to deal with the many feelings and emotions that are never going to be reciprocated. A song such as "Ocean Avenue," by Yellowcard, heard here years after it was written, makes you feel the years weighing densely in your aching bones. It's a song about super perplexing problems of want, when heard from the vantage point of 10 years of marriage and a bunch of children running around the house that you now own with that girl you would have sung such a song about when you were 18 years old, but then again, everything comes flooding back in a flash. Yellowcard frontman Ryan Key is now a married man himself and still the sentiment rings. It must because, even here in the songs on his band's new record, "Lift A Sail," there lingers the belief in a forever that can be imagined, even without a footing -- with just a little bit of magical moonlight and some naivete.