Megan Remy was arched over the expanse of electronic machines, tape recorders and looping systems which lay on the table beneath her and it was here where she began to string out her pastiche of swirling noise. The sound of US Girls was quickly clouded around the room, its sequences hanging off of our every limb. Just as you thought the sea of unrelenting melancholy may just drown you Megan bounded up straight, her searching eyes connecting with the room. She began to sing. There is an isolation which haunts the very material of US Girls though to think of it as desperate is wildly misguided. It's perfectly content, altogether familiar and certainly not strange. The spirals of sound can consume, combine together to become the curtain which closes us off from any sense of the people around. Then Its just you and Megan Remy, her hypnotic stare and your attentive soul, her commanding figure and your silent lips and its at this point that you realise the familiarity of what you are listening to. US Girls write love songs, they are songs of betrayal and songs of growing up. Caught up in this shifting fabric of sound its easy to understand the raw honesty with which Megan Remy sings.
It was as Megan stood up straight, her microphone slumped down on the table and performance over that i first knew that she was singing to me. I was filled with the regret of an unfaithful lover, twisting my feet around my leg as i watched her speak. As US Girls was packed neatly back into the travel case that they were first unloaded from i saw Megan laughing. The show was over and the DJs had kicked in. Though i still walked over to the otherside of the room and looked into her eyes, i hope she knows im sorry.
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