Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
There's a call hanging out there in the balance that a save is needed. It might be a bit of an over-exaggeration, but the feeling is that the better part of the universe is in a bit of a tailspin and there's no net stretched tautly below it. It's on-course for a horrific splatter, all broken bones and dead expressions. The impact is going to kill it. It's falling, screaming its jiggling face off - and no one's hearing a thing. The folks in the band Michael J. Epstein Memorial Library sound like the saviors that we might need to pull hard on the reins and get the graffiti-ed and pissed upon universe out of its own destiny. They insist that they think they can shine brighter than a billion solar bursts. They're damned sure of it.
They wonder if that's enough to get the job done because, see, they've never rescued a universe before either. They're these comets that are planning on swooping in during one glorious night and waving that wand that will reverse the trend. It seems like a wholesome and ideal transformation of lemons to lemonade.
Even in the face of a downward spiral, Michael J. Epstein Memorial Library songs have a feeling of amazement to them. There's disbelief when they sing, "Sometimes I find it strange that I'm alive/And even stranger/Stranger that I'll die." One stands to wonder which is harder to believe. We feel that it's neck-and-neck and both are hard to wrap a head around, no matter how hard you try. It's whimsical, in a way to even consider either of them. It's better to just chalk it up to insanity