The more days we get through, the harder and more complex they get. If you have children, your worries and concerns compound and they turn from hoping that you can stop them from eating too much candy to at some point needing them to understand how easily people can be made and also that everyone on the road is a dangerous, distracted driver. You worry about food and money all the time, sinking into wild despair at the notion of just how many bills and mouths you're responsible for every month. If you don't have children -- if you're nowhere near that point, or never will be -- shit can be just as complicated and tough to decipher. The issues of self-confidence and worth are called into question more frequently than we get hunger pangs. Our capacities for accepting the falls and shortcomings that become more pronounced and slightly pitiful with age, only increase. The ruts that we cut in the ground, or in our hard wood floors, are deep and irreversible. UK band PAUMA delivers on these kinds of cosmic punches -- the ones that go right for the body, over and over again, until the muscles are soft gravy and we're chain-smoking our problems away.