Here we are, almost square in the middle of the month of March and we're very tired of it, those of us living far enough north to get the worst of it. It's that point in the winter, where we've already flipped the clocks forward an hour, for the explicit purpose of altering our depression. We're suddenly blessed with more of the daylight that we kicked away in the autumn. These days feel entirely different than the ones that we had just a few short days ago. Their complexion is different, but they behave the same way. There's some bit of trickery involved, with the outside weather still acting coarse and disrespectful. It's all deceptive and it feels like that terminal condition that's never going to get any better.
The folks in the Denver, Colorado, group Houses share this pain. There's been snow and more snow. There have been premature melts before the cold winter bore down once more. They're ready for the season to crack and for those sprigs of green to work their ways back into the lawns and up into the trees. They need it as much as we do. Houses take it upon themselves to move this attitude in the right direction, giving us the sonic equivalent of fresh air and spring cleaning, even in songs where someone's being chased down by a lawman, where it feels like someone's being pinned into a corner or chased across the state lines into some temporary sanctuary.
These are triumphant jams that speed you across a desert that you forgot existed, a place that can only be somewhere in that fertile mind that you keep to yourself. They take you by the hands into these cut-off jean shorts afternoons that you could swear were the warmest and chilliest that you'd ever experienced in your life. You might be down and out, but you're rebounding with their help. You're thinking about taking a dip. You're thinking about just getting into the car and driving, without a destination in mind. You've convinced yourself that you're going to see the sun again, even if you have to chase it down your damn self.