We can alter a memory in any way we please. We can twist, tangle, and distort a remembrance until its shape no longer depicts the original image we had in mind. Yet we can’t control a memory’s ability to occupy space within our head; it can maneuver in and out of our consciousness as it pleases, making itself present whenever it wants to whether we’d like it to be around or not.
Janesville, Wisconsin’s Double Ewes are familiar with these up-popping reminders of the past. The trio (comprised of Jeremy Nealis, Whilden Hughes, and Max Jewer) makes music backed by an electronic drum kit, and they write bits and pieces of new songs out of old, previously recorded tapes. One of the band’s musical feet seems to be out the door, the other lingering behind a bit longer.
Double Ewes’ latest single, “Phosphenes,” presents itself in a similar manner. Amidst swirling guitars, hazy vocals recall somber memories of fathers and grandfathers, reflecting on how and why certain images are so keen to pop up time after time. The mechanic drums and bass follow suit, fading out just before we’re ready to see them go and bouncing back in when we least expect them to.
But for all of the dim introspection, there’s a strange brightness to “Phosphenes.” It’s almost as if the track’s memories are so far faded that they’ve gathered a bit of distorted brilliance to them. We can, after all, mold them into reflections of whatever we’d like.
Double Ewes are set to release their self-titled debut on May 27. The record will be self-released with handmade screen-printed media, and it will be awesome.