The essay you're about to read was written a while ago, but we liked it so much, we thought we'd share it again. After so much time has passed, it's irrelevant who saw who or who made the first move. It all just becomes part of the ephemera and there's not much of a need to dwell upon it. The tiniest details become those things that are forgotten amongst the vast sea of other things. If two people are together, and it looks as if they're staying together for a goodly amount of time, the facts of the encounter - the clothes that were worn, the time of day, the precursors and the postscripts - all just amount to clutter. They're together now and that was a long time ago. It matters little who was the aggressor or who was the one struck by dumb ass luck and overlapping schedules. What we hear in the music of London duo Summer Camp, are these stories coming from both sides, involving someone who's very much in control and someone who's happily going along with it. There are parts of the story where there's a shared romantic bliss and there are other times when you wonder if someone needs a rescuer. But then again, the meeting and retaining of someone - to love and especially to hold - is something of an aggressive sport and those with the sharpest claws and good growls tend to make out very well, figuratively and literally, and it usually makes all the difference. Jeremy Warmsley and Elizabeth Sankey, a real life couple, create this incredibly fascinating mood of animalistic needs and urges - of a chase and whatever comes next in the scheme of things - that seem not to fit their personal preferences or personalities, but it's easy to see how said preferences and personalities could work that much better in enacting the tones that come from the songs on their debut, "Young," and elsewhere. It almost always comes off as some hyper-charged version of puppy love, but there are the other instances when it's something much different, and it's there where things are most interesting. Sankey occasionally plays a dominating role of the person wearing the pants in the relationship, with a cute voice and a demeanor that no one would suspect of mischievousness providing a dark nature to the persona. You can't help but feel for poor Warmsley, or the character he's portraying, at times, because there are pixie-throated threats of bodily harm if the girl doesn't get what she wants or doesn't get it in a timely enough manner. Oh, but she's still so lovable, even in this state. There's a loyalty and a passion, or connection, between these two people that's substantially rooted in a real love, even if it might be slightly distorted or unconventional. There's a wooing and a courting that happens throughout their songs and there's a settling in that involves it all. It takes different forms and yet, there's this dangerous edge to this relationship that makes us want to hear of what's going to happen next. There could be bones breaking or dishes thrown against the walls. Or there could be babies and walks through the park. And who's to say that there can't be all of the above in this modern age.