Right as "Circuitry" started playing, there was a blunted moan coming from outside - something that sounded like a real kicker of a storm blowing through. It sounded like a sustained gust just hurling itself at everything in its path. As I muted the volume, just for a second to confirm what it was, it turned out that it was just the bulleting of the roof with what had to have been half-dollar-sized raindrops, splattering flat against the shingles, creating quite the clatter. It should have come as no surprise, as the early evening sky has been threatening and gray as a tumor through all of the dinnertime hours. It seemed like something was bound to happen, but it still felt rather serendipitous that it should finally open itself up just as sisters Colette and Hannah Thurlow or the London-based group, 2:54, were making themselves heard.
These sisters make us feel that we're completely soaked through, that we were caught out on a day, completely unprepared for showers that never let up - for torturously soggy conditions. We've been left out to fend for ourselves and there are no umbrellas to be had. Water has already snuck into our shoes and socks, within the first one or two puddles we encounter. There's no reason to even dodge them at this point. Sloshing through them is going to be just fine, as the teeth start their chattering and nothing's going to change anything until you can get back home and get a hot shower or bath.
2:54 drafts up a night that needs to be enjoyed from indoors. There needs to be a regrouping. There needs to be some time to oneself to recalibrate. Something's gone wrong and you're feeling about as vulnerable as you're felt in a while. You're barely yourself. You're hanging ever so slightly in those damp clothes, with a bemused look on your face.