It messes me up inside to think about what some music means to me and what time it makes me recall – yes, this has devolved into a personal essay. The Dutchess and the Duke released its first album  - She’s the Dutchess, He’s the Duke  - during 2008. I got that promo in the mail during the winter, I believe. It kinda doesn’t matter. What does is the fact that Seattle, while it’s hilly as all get out, is rather hospitable to ride a bike in. There’s barely weather – and you only think it rains a lot if you happen to be a wuss. So, I rode around a lot and listened to that first disc after O cracked it open. I sang, felt feelings and thought I could in some way relate to the stuff that this duo was saying.

I did.

Sometime during the winter – it was more rainy than cold, so it mighta been the beginning of the spring – I saw ‘em play at some gallery that has since gone the way of the dinosaur. Decent venue, overpriced drinks. But the performance did solidify my undying respect for those folks. It was free too, which didn’t hurt.

Anyway, some chick devastated me not to long after that. Those songs took on greater meaning as they were no longer just some tracks that sounded good, or related ideas that I’d had in the past. It became a disc that should have been understood as prescient.

I can’t always listen to the tracks off of She’s the Dutchess, He’s the Duke. It hurts. So, I gotta be prepared to hear ‘em. But listening is worth it sometimes.

The release of Sunset/Sunrise now affords me the luxury of listening to the D and D again without all the angsty nonsense that accompanies hearing the first album. Of course, the inclusion of a slightly re-vamped “Scorpio” is a momentary hiccup. Everything else is new though.

The rest of the disc, while still obviously tied to its previous work, finds the D and D in different territory. Some strings crop up on “Living this Life,” but fit well enough to not be startling. Some might perceive the band as further delving into the Stonesy aspect of its compositions. Sunset/Sunrise is certainly lusher and at times it almost seems as if there’s an entire band. The 12-string that Kimberly Morrison knocks around is part of that. And while some of the runs that she gets through sound thoroughly worn in at this point, the D and D are able to change it up enough from track to track as to not sound complacent.

Lyrically, it’s still all love loss and bummers. “I Don't Feel Anything,” though, ratchets up the negative creeps here. As the title says, one of these two singers has been so thoroughly detached from feeling while in a relationship as to relate the sentiment. That’s a tremendous bummer. But it’s delivered nicely enough so as to not be too upsetting.

Whatever’s next for the duo – including a tour with Greg Ashley formerly of the Gris-Gris – it’ll be interesting to see if it has anything to do with fuller instrumentation. Here’s to another year and another album.