We’re born, we drift through space, we drift through time, and then we die. It happens whether we’re aware of it or not. I am reminded of this while listening to Drifter, the first new album from young prisms in a decade. I went to high school with a couple of the dudes in this band. We were usually decent to each other, even though our all-boys Catholic environs bred and nourished boorish, immature, unspeakable behavior. Oh well, “boys will be boys.” The years passed. People moved. Into the city, away from the city. Joined bands, left bands. Pursued careers, started families. Drifting, drifting, drifting. And here is a moment in time: A blissful new shoegaze album by old friends, wiser, still full of wonder, and brimming with something that needs to be said, sung. Open hands reaching out, a simple, warm embrace in a cold, noisy world.
