Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Grant Johnson at Good Danny's, Austin, Texas
One of the best things that you can do is to always keep a perspective about the ways that your love is either letting you down, or keeping you propped up. When you have those trying times, when they feel like more than you can take, a step or two back, to get everything into the picture, can do you a world of good. It's only then, when you've pulled your body out of the eye of the storm, out of the ring of fallen fur, chipped teeth and blood spackles, that you're able to appreciate both sides of the coin and therefore having a little light shed on what's really happening. Granted, it could all be a load of shit, and things really are as bad as they seem and you might need to walk away, but rarely is that really the case. More often, it's plain to see that the troubles are lighter and more negotiable than ever would have been imagined.
Austin songwriter Amy Cook's songs remind us that there are different ways of looking at the same thing. Gloomy and rainy days, even the threat of them, aren't all bad. They're going to make the roses bloom and that should be kept in mind when you're cursing the clouds and the drops for ruining your plans or flooding your basement. Cook seems to work a lot with that understanding in her writing. She could just look at the difficulties or disappointments as such, or she could allow her characters to decide for themselves how they're going to swallow their bitter pills, when they're sitting there on the corner of the table.
There are those moments, where the only proper thing to do would be to turn tail and flee, to leave behind the toxic people and problems that will never fix themselves and will never get better. Then again, there are those things that can be worked through. They can be rehabilitated, or they just aren't that bad at all. There is the sound of boots walking that mimics the beat of a heart, the thumping a constant, no matter if the steps are coming or going. It can be pleasant or it could be racked with pain, depending on the direction. There are big hopes in Cook's songs. There's that insatiable need for companionship, even if it comes with more intensity that you'd ever want to deal with. People are going to either take and get what they want or what they deserve and they're stubborn about it, with Cook singing here, "You won't go until you've had more than your fill/More wins than losses." Sometimes though, win is just a different word for loss. They all need to be shaken off.