Mother Engine

"Mother Engine was written between Dutchess County and Kingston, NY. We were living in old houses, islands in lawns in the woods. Echoing off these forest floors was the aroma of Hasbrouck Ave, home to our icey studio-garage in Kingston. The rhythm of freight trains, garbage trucks, and table saws hitchhiked home with us to be absorbed into the treeline while we slept. In our writing, we found a sound permeated by feeling. Our way of moving through the sprawl, across the wide river, was to glance backward while we pushed the gas. Sorrowful sounds are met with rhythm and guitars talk to each other like angels singing or demons screaming. We held a mirror to our discordant arrivals from our respective homes, where you could hear the wind through the pines, a lone car on an otherwise vacant road, barred owls calling in a ring around you. At times, guitars punctuate the sung lament of isolation—shouting from the confines of early pandemic years. It’s a long way from home but in this vision of America we always know—where we live even if it’s nothing but highway, cheap motels and the company of one another. "