"When will summer start? is a common complaint in cities with long winters. You hear it moaned frequently when a year's middle months are not collapsing our shoulders with sweat and sunburn. But as James Ferraro and his "summer's poem" "Manhattan Future Ocean" remind us, summer is no respite from ever-present brutality and sea-change. On the brightest day of the year, it's still 3AM in hell.
Images of New York City flooded by global warming come with the first reading of the track's title, and the bisection of Garageband elegy with the latter half's sheared metal migraine present two different pictures of despair: as numbing background noise and urgent, fresh. As with all good post-apocalyptica, you have to add a small note of hope, provided here in a spoken word outro: “The Earth is a weapon/But I can’t lie/The sky looks beautiful”