Future Islands makes me what to go ahead and quit my job. I’ll follow them around the country and across the seas – panhandle for ticket money, flirt for drinks. Maybe they’d let me run the merch table. This could work out.
It’s no secret. I’ve been under a Future Islands spell all year. I can’t play it cool. I gush like a idiot. I turn them on and on and on again, knowing full well that listing to them is going to rip up my soul, but I just can’t stop. Every time I think I’m tired of them, I start to miss them. What is it that keeps me coming back for more?
Well, there’s Sam Herring. A man, not boy, of boundless, almost reckless energy. It took a second to get used to him lunging at us from the edge of the stage but by the end, we were all charmed. A special call out to keyboardist Gerrit Welmers. He really is a secret weapon. He lightens the darkness, makes you feel like you’re in a cathedral on one song and at a carnival on another.
I think I keep coming back because Future Islands awakens epic emotions in my modern heart. These anthems, these canticles, these cries – they just don’t fit in this day and age. Instead of irreverence, they play with imagination. They abandon the nostalgia and tinker with memory. If only for a moment, they shake us up and break us out of our little worlds.