*Before starting this blog it’s important to state that it isn’t specific to a band or artist – especially not those we are currently fortunate enough to be touring with. Both Atlas Genius and Family of the Year play with an integrity and drive that we all strive to emulate….
The search for authenticity is really what we all look for in this band – an experience that seems more real than the next, a heartfelt delivery or a piece of true emotion unblemished by a surrounding. I think a lot of our contemporaries miss the point, obsessed with notions of defining time, entertaining, or just seeking the bullshit of cool with every tortured breath. That this forces the songs and expressions of others to straddle this ever-expanding line is an even greater assault on what we try to do. But it is within this overblown beginning to a blog that we’ve been travelling around the USA for the last week, in a van with leather seats, blacked out windows and an Xbox – at least we can recognise and embrace our hypocrisy in comfort.
Every hour the landscape ticks over providing relentless interest, although we missed each of the 1.3 million Florida alligators much to the chagrin of our Michael. Matt likes to revel in the front as chief spotter and tunesmith – always able to assess the viability of the next service area, which punctuate the land in a useful sort of way – their identikit finishes highlight the difference and beauty in the many natural crests and crevices. Free will lives, as long as it comes in a footlong. No Tescos though. Imagine if our country was designed around the whims of large corporations, whilst slowly eroding welfare systems limped through the ruins of privatised services and structures….
The gigs and states have flown by in a blink, an extreme road trip which leaves me feeling like we’ve been passing through places rather than learning anything tangible about them – it does little to alter our life-long patiently sculpted model of America, nor does the cornucopia of our van: basically a rampaging steel cliche, cutting great swathes along the interstate emitting the sounds and smells of Huey Lewis and meat snacks, eyes patiently trained outwards scouring fields and forests for something that fits into our neatly pre-arranged picture. All we need is a couple of pistols, a flag and the Top Gun script. Take My Breath Away has just come on the stereo. Thanks Matt, I MUST be in America now.