Shaw – Pretending We’re Not Animals

After producing a string of bands in his basement, Shaw set about conceiving an album of his own. He locked the doors, shut the blinds and didn’t leave his lo-fi laboratory until a perfect brainchild lay whole and conscious before him, with wolf-white teeth and a heart-machine pumping blood in rhythmic dances. Pretending We’re Not Animals, a coy nod to modern man’s schizophrenic self-image, was born.

If Pretending We’re Not Animals was a building it would be an old Victorian house in San Francisco, a post-Earthquake dwelling with an expansive view of Golden Gate Park and the Pacific Ocean. It would present a wine red facade over old, vulnerable brick. The foundation of washed synths and delayed guitars would be poured upon pillars made of tiny bits of broken drum machines. The mantle would be decorated with self-portraits of artists the landlord once knew and loved. Thick carpets would sprawl over old growth redwood, basking in the warmth of the hearth. Some doors would only be large enough for cats and dogs, but otherwise it would be a fine place for an intimate party or quiet night re-reading a favorite book, far away from the near threat of December’s frigid air.

E-mail: shawmakesmusic@gmail.com