Lyrics that make you think that lyrics aren’t quite done yet. A song that makes you think that songs aren’t quite done yet.
Because they give you a determinable place, not just an indeterminate space.
The contours of this place were well-handed a blurb in the e-mail submission:
“The lyrics to this song were a stream of consciousness head-vomit. It’s only upon re-reading that they actually seem to tie together to tell a narrative about the absurdity of how human consciousness deals with truth, how we often suppress it in favor of comfortable lies, or alter it to better fit our world view — the quality of the stories we invent to describe ourselves and the world we inhabit are the most mutable truths, and ones we often have difficulty narrating coherently.”
This blurb could speak a volume for a person. This is the kind of thing that could conjure the person’s direction, or securitise a person’s direction that was already apparent.
That direction, that truth, that meaning: these words are interchangeable and so are we, so are these songs. That’s an honesty, and an honesty that allows your person a love, an experience, a place to really fall into. Words of music, rhythm, song, art… whatever you call it. What a thing for a song submission to realise in the heart-shaped minds and evenings of its listener!
Reviews that make you think reviews aren’t quite done yet:
this is an EP released yesterday (!) the song of the blurb is the first track on the EP called Push Hard and Swallow,
download at your own price:
The skull, though. It starts to make a rigorous sense by the time of the third track on the EP, called Now We’ve Seen The Dead. That third song is enough to bring me home. That’s one for the future loops: those reoccurring spirals that one tries, one tries, one tries to analyse so hard, but fails every time: those silences perpetuated by the “nothing worth knowing to say”, sometime: something, I feel silly, but still… Sincere.
So how I see it is that the man singing in these songs has a line of melody that has been moulded by the smooth terra-firma texture of a story he’s heard told to him in whispers perhaps or just a quiet a calm headland for his ear, eyes, and this made him stop. And then it happened again and he stopped again. The objects kept falling around him in cascades, in fragmented light raining, in disorder, in calming patterns of slow falling lights, like time upon the hard-working heaving tops of people’s stomachs. And these waves of colours were the qualities that glued like gravity his head and the others’ heads to the middle bit of the band rehearsing or performing, and that’s the thing that makes this picture, these songs, this post all make some sense.
Or how I see it is that he took that rhythm and took it into the dry translucent galaxy of dust-parties in sunlit front seats of vehicles on roads of ribbons of concrete connections between one chord and the next.
How “Amidst the silent voices roars a word
Free to live
Free to run
An intergalactic experiment
For a God to Flesh become.”
one(?) of those words although I’m not sure which
makes you stop planning your plaining your plateau of your
All (!!!) of those words, because all of those words includes the gaps in between them, filled with a liveliness, a conviction, an instrumentation! A noise of people strumming and beating and looking each other in the supposed eye, behind the complicated lids and lashes and whatnot, singing and creating what comes so crucially to their instants, their moments.
This is /onwards!/ music that brings Earth to the listener washing from outer-space
The band are from South Korea.