The Past is one man. A seemingly sad, unassuming man who strums and plucks a classical guitar and sings minimal lyrics rather forcefully. "Magical fantasies are all I have left in me / but you make me smile," he sang at one point, shortly after finishing off another song where he frequently sang some iteration of "Thanks for the love."
There's no telling if there's a multiplicity to the "you's" he calls out to, but it often feels like just one entity. Or a vision of an entity. He sounds disappointed that he can't impress this idealized muse, but they wrest this giant feeling out of him that is somewhere between the knowing passion of Mac McCaughan and loaded, devastated devotion of Neil Young.
Of course, he ended his set with a gentle cover of the Eagles' "Take it to the Limit" so who knows what the hell was going on here.
There's no telling if there's a multiplicity to the "you's" he calls out to, but it often feels like just one entity. Or a vision of an entity. He sounds disappointed that he can't impress this idealized muse, but they wrest this giant feeling out of him that is somewhere between the knowing passion of Mac McCaughan and loaded, devastated devotion of Neil Young.
Of course, he ended his set with a gentle cover of the Eagles' "Take it to the Limit" so who knows what the hell was going on here.