This is the trip you take in the middle of the nuclear summer, when the skin was going to be peeling off anyway. This is the kind of dip into a pool that you just can't wait to make, not even thinking about it, not even testing the water because there's not a damned worry that it won't meet expectations, that the splash and the blue won't be perfect. This is a high-speed chase through the guts and intestines of arcade games, zipping through their circuitry as if the wires were service roads bordered by fast food restaurants and convenience stores, just with a different nighttime soundtrack. This is the emergency siren spouting off about something, something that must be exciting, something that may not be all that serious. This is prowling around the backside of a warehouse, ready to bust down the doors, capture all of the bad guys and confiscate all of the black market narcotics or stolen cars. This is when you'd like to try a little bit of everything in a night, when you're not just going to sit around in the same place as the hours drag. You're going to get up and cause a scene, or move around and mingle - if nothing else.
Eliot Lipp's creations are made with multiple ends in sight. They are directives, albeit subtle ones, that will entice you to get going. You won't need sunglasses because the day will be long gone. All of that swimming that we were talking about earlier - it was all going to come under the moonlight. The nuclear summer was going to be experienced after the primetime hours had long been put to bed. We're talking about the provocative time of day, when you're experiencing a loosening of the ties and there's a general slipping into something a little more comfortable. Tongues and throats are getting a little more lubricated and we're acting on full stomachs. We've received our second winds, or we've taken them.
A spoken word sample at the beginning on the New Yorker's track, "Sunset," features an intense woman asking a man to look up at that sunset and saying, "It's like the daytime didn't want to end, isn't it? It's like the daytime is gonna put up a big scrap. Set the world on fire -- to keep the nighttime from gripping on." It's like she's possessed at the end of it, jacked to see what the fight's going to look like, to see who's going to get the worse end of it. It might just be another draw - one of millions - but Lipp makes sure that the soundtrack for the scuffle is a sexy one.