2/24/2023 0 Comments Surfer blood island![]() ![]() “Bloody Island, in the midst of the rushing stream, stretches out its barren, sandy shores, and gloomy as the graveyard! ah! a graveyard! and when the associations connected with its dark history are permitted through the mind, the appellation is no misnomer. The island and sometimes-violent activities that happened there were notorious all across the country. The mystique of Bloody Island was well known at the time and not contained just to St. Louis, beyond the obvious trade and commerce connections we so often hear about.” Louis and its mighty river history that seems to be forgotten almost entirely is the story of Bloody Island, an island-like sandbar in the river two centuries ago that was a popular local site for dueling and illegal activities.Īndrew Wanko of the Missouri Historical Society pointed out the peculiarity of the history of Bloody Island: “It’s an interesting story of how the Mississippi River affected so many aspects of life in St. Louis the city it is today, but one part of St. Louis will always be tied to is the Mississippi River, one of the most important waterways in the country. One iconic historic symbol of commerce and mobility St. Louis loves remembering and celebrating its role in early American history as one of the most important western cities and one of the last centers of civilization for those venturing further west. It sounds like an analysis of the space where excuses and manning up come together, where the hide starts to get a little thicker, but there are still plenty of cracks in the armor to let in those surprising swatches of cold air.The city of St. Surfer Blood do a great job of taking the transition point of powerless young-man-dom and making it sound like the point where the wings have been clipped some, where there have been some burn marks made for showing off and where there's still a good helping of refusal to fall into complacency with the outcomes that may be. Pitts sings on "Harmonix," "I won't wait around for the ice to thaw out now," seemingly suggesting that there have been some concessions made and he'll be damned if he's just going to go on playing the fool, hoping that everything changes and gets made right for he knows that the odds are long. There's disappointment within these songs and there's the sense that it's just the beginning. The stories in these songs sound as if they're coming from the perspective not of a guy getting trampled on for the first time, but perhaps this is the third or fourth time and some things have become quite a bit clearer to him, however, some clarity still doesn't make for a settled spirit. It's the lyrics that Pitts puts to the songs on "Astro Coast," completed by the playing of TJ Schwarz, Thomas Fekete, Brian Black and Marcos Marchesani, that give the whole experience a feel of time on the run or threatened innocence. Pitts sings and it hits you the way those pockets of cold air hit you occasionally in the summertime - particularly in lower-lying areas near a body of water - where things are happening in the air and amidst the hot stuffiness comes a small patch of oddly cool air. There's a cool air to the words that lead singer J.P. It's a record that should be played when you've thought about all of the different ways that your situation could have gone and, even after having done this, there are still more questions than you'd like there to be and there are still billions of head games that are being staged up in your cobwebs, up where the passionate parts of the head are still lit up like Las Vegas Boulevard - red and white hot and every other color of illumination imaginable. It's a record that should be played when you've had your heart crushed and you just might be getting on to feeling a little better, but that's all relative. "Astro Coast" isn't beach blanket music to play beneath a sparkling night sky, as the salt from the crashing waters seeps into your hair and skin without you even noticing it and the sand forms a new later of skin on the bottoms of your feet. The group of young men from West Palm Beach, Florida, aren't at all about or for the perma-tan that many might be too willing to pin on them. While it is the basis and part of the execution of every song on the record, that warmth is limited, almost a decoy that can be so easily deceptive that you can still feel caught up in it even when it's impossible. It does not keep rippling, hitting you with wave after wave of hot degrees. The warmth of Surfer Blood's debut album, "Astro Coast," isn't perpetual. ![]()
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