One day you're overjoyed by what you've got and the very next day you want to gouge your eyes out. You go from total satisfaction to wanting nothing more than to throw yourself into moving traffic and splatter wherever you're going to splatter. The cleanup will be someone else's mess to deal with. Then again, the second you're about to be splattered, you're bound to feel like you're making a horrible mistake and you really did have a bunch going for you, things weren't so bad, could have been worse, maybe you should get out of the…It's a struggle to ever fall in ideally, but it's easy to be complacent with the setting as well.
For Fawn Spots, there's a very specific ire that bends itself to fit the occasion. The ire shapes itself around the one constant - inconsistently. They show us the attitude that comes out when a person embraces city living because it's one battle after another. It celebrates the opportunities of the ambitious rabble-rouser or anyone who just wants to stir it up and cause a healthy amount of mayhem. It's about getting battered and beaten and accepting it as the consequences of where you call home. It's about being a needle in a haystack, being able to fit in and being able to feel meaningful as you're stuck fucking your shit up with all the rest.
Then there's the converse emotion of wanting nothing to do with the masses, of just cutting oneself off from the buzz and the hum, to just get away from everyone and be as alone as you can be. There are the days when it's good to be you and then there are days when being someone else would be helpful and appealing as hell. These are episodes of young, agitate people figuring out that they're dying already, decomposing some and wanting to rail against it as much as is possible.