Young Coyotes

For a good period of time this afternoon, there was a blaring streak of sunlight ripping through the window and causing the right eye of this weary traveler some grief, but now, everything's changed. Off to the same side of the van is the same falling sun, this time calmed down and able to be stared almost directly at without taking a brush dipped into white latex paint and coating over both of my eyes. It makes a silhouette out of the weakly turning Oklahoma windmill and the halo of deepened, red-orange glow fades itself out slowly as it crescents upward to meet the faint gray and gray-blue. There are three airplanes heading somewhere west of here, writing like never-moving pieces of white chalk across the sky, causing the slightest scars as a handful of lost deer plod through the ditches for dinner. It's a Young Coyotes setting, the one that's now happening and will soon be replaced by dark blindness and only the thought of what's still out there in the stillness, still moving around, still looking for dinner, still flying through the air and still coloring perspectives elsewhere. The Denver, Colorado two-piece made up of Adam Halferty and Zach Tipton makes a kind of music that can be of the most serene and idyllic faculties or it can summon such hungry and animalistic urges as wanting to shake out some gasoline or whatever combustible and angry is available onto something or a big pile of flammable somethings. All that would be needed at that point to instigate the most glorious scene that they could envision would be a tiny little match and a flick from the wrist to send the fire down to do its job. It could wind up being that bloody sun out in the distance. Hopefully, it would be as there's nothing better than a fire in the deepest part of the night if it's not causing any fatal harm. It's a beautiful sight to see. It's the feeling that the Young Coyotes gift us with their as-yet unreleased music, all of which puts a person under a spectacular spell that feels like a massage and a cool beverage in hand, just looking out over a classic view of things so far away from your resting point - a massive mountain range or anything that can make a man feel a little diminished in stature. It can also bring on a puffed out heart, a sense of not necessarily being in the shadows of bigger things, but being a part of them - as if the mountains were relatives. It still would be nice to see those mountains on fire, just blazing up to the heavens, to get the full effect of what Halferty and Tipton might think about every so often when they're cooking up these reverb-ready songs of tuneful meanderings and drips. The songs are feathered with airy utterances and the glistening crispness of an apple or a too-cold shower. It's a mood and a tone that don't explain at all the way we met these two, coming off the road, just days after getting a pounding on their hotel room door from a local sheriff ready to bust them for the counterfeiting that he just KNEW they'd done. The two Coyotes played coy, and even slippery with the officer and eventually learned that the club owner from the night before had paid them with bogus bills - reported when hotel owner tattled on them after accepting the currency for the room. They obviously skirted trouble that night and yet there's nothing so innocent about either of these guys. Never trust a coyote, but listen to them when they mention the fires that they're longing to set and admire.