"Cherub had a long, slow evolution. The main tune had been kicking around for years and it was Dean who implored me to develop it into a song. A chorus came together pretty quickly. It was pure escapism; it felt easy to imagine a character who runs away and rips a phone number from a flyer to start a new life.
The song was building with a very optimistic tone, but it didn't feel quite right. It felt off-balance, too starry-eyed. The platypus was waiting for the Queen. I sat by the water for a long time with no verses.
I remember sitting in the rocking chair with my daughter one day, lulling her to sleep. Forwards, backwards, forwards, backwards. I have done this many times of course, and I often find myself slipping into this strange, ruminative zone. Forwards, backwards, forwards, backwards.
On this particular occasion, I was in luck. While we both moved in silence, unsure of who was putting who to sleep, the words suddenly strung themselves together in my head.
I left her room, tip-toeing across the finish line with a song called Cherub; a song that looks curiously inward until, finally, it implodes, collapsing violently in on itself and leaving shimmering debris as far as the eye can see." - Sam Cromack