It's nothing but a scramble when you get into the guts of a Pigeon Detectives song. You're met with a crowd of people who should be frantic, but they've been around for too long to understand that it will do them no good to get that way. They've been knocked down and upside the head many times before. They've been socked and had the wind pounded out of them. They've seen chances come and go. They're no strangers to regret. They're no strangers to bleeding out, to backing over themselves and amplifying the shit. What they've learned to do is find solace in the battles. They've learned to take them more easily with a strong cup of coffee and a smoke. They're able to look at the carnage that they've largely made and shrug something fierce, before shuffling themselves off to the next emotional massacre. They're caretakers of these situations, these past lives, where all has gone wrong, but none of it's gone. They have forced themselves into a state of awe surrounding what they're capable of orchestrating.
The band from Rothwell, West Yorkshire, fronted by singer Matt Bowman, doesn't take these interpersonal relationships lightly, but they show a respect for the chaos and for everyone coming to the edge with a general knowledge that they're going to enter into a world that's almost completely undefined. Love and the way that people treat one another follow no set guidelines. It's just a dizzy dance that leaves most disoriented and wobbly.
"Love won't make a sound," as Bowman sings in the song, "Animal," a reminder that the feeling can strike at any time and it will come in the form of another person - just like yourself - who knows not what they're going to do in the next second, minute, hour or day. Something could just snap and…Bowman sings, "Light me up a cigarette/I'm in a mess and I've got to go/I gave you my very best/But I guess that you'll never know," and that's where the back gets turned, where the moving along occurs.