Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews of Communion Music at 2KHz, Crouch End, London
Various forms of invincibility are relayed to us here, via the songs of London's Eliza and the Bear. Of course, we're very aware that invincibility of any kind, of any guise or shade is impractical. There's no way of surviving everything. Something is bound and determined to get us and that's really the great mystery that any of us are ever privy to and eventually it reveals itself to us and down we go, another knock on any of that presumed invincibility.
The way that Eliza and the Bear frame it all up, however, we are believers that there might still be something to the idea of staying alive, of beating all of the odds. These songs are testaments to the overwhelming strength and power of perseverance and loved ones. They are about surrounding yourself with those aspects of life that one never regrets - like loving blindly and absolutely, or swimming in lakes and ponds and shutting out any of the manmade distractions that we routinely convince ourselves are more important than anything else.
We find invincibility hinted at here in the characterizations of people who have lion-sized hearts. Those are good for more than just pumping blood, but the blood they pump is impressive as well. It might even be able to do acrobatic things, pull off incredible feats or orchestrate obscure maneuvers. There's really no telling what all it might be capable of, but there are expectations. Lead singer James Kellegher sings, "I may ask of you to walk for me/Because my bones aren't what they used to be," hinting that there could be a need for a crutch, for some auxiliary assistance. The good news is that the crutches here seem to be abundant. There is blood to be borrowed, willing splint makers and cheerleaders. It's a family extended. It's love and good will unbound, available to anyone who needs two shots in each arm.