Welcome to a land of wounded folks. The population soars with every passing day. The defects are impossible to completely quantify. They cover such a wide range that they all feel brand new when you hear about them. Any collection of songs by The Gallery is full of all the pulpiness of living that we gather around us. It's all of those situations that soften us and smooth out the rough edges. It's everything that turns our muscle to mush -- the way apples bruise -- and everything that tends to make us more liable to shed tears as we age. They sing of all the catches that we never see until their breath's hot on our cheeks and we're eye-to-eye with them. They sing of how truth and love fail us, but we foolishly or wisely never hold it against either. These somehow sound like the half-victory songs of the common people.
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