It’s a fact: children are obsessed with We Are Scientists. Children are fucking obsessed with us. Why?! Why is it? Is it their purity of instinct? Their absence of cant and cunning? Their commitment to major-label-indie aesthetics? Is it that we craft songs that suit their smaller faces? Their smaller hands? Is it that from their diminished vantage we, more than any other band, appear as titans? as gods? Is it that with their half-formed consciousnesses our songs, with bone-lean, adamantine logic, make better sense than the songs of other bands and periods? Is it that their eyes — children’s eyes — stare with unblushing curiosity at the world, and only we dare to stare right back at them? Only we dare to put our hands to their foreheads and give a little shove?
The reasons, we haven’t figured out. But the facts are in: children the world over are passionate about We Are Scientists. They talk about us in their broken grammar. They dance awkwardly when their parents put us on. They gleefully hand over whatever alms are collected in their overall-bib pockets when they meet us. And that shit adds up.