Some kind of revival, survival, blood-ending arrival of the good old days. The good old voices in our heads, the English dread, thought of pessimism dragged up to the group tension, made to sound optimistic. I can fathom the values and truths of the most mundane, tedious, recurring dreams, I can fathom them in my manifestivity. My manifested activity. And now I’m bouncing on top, with some surreal sense of delirium, of the good old up-beating sound, electric strings and snare hits, the well-spoken polished appeal; an alternative but popular perspective with an imagined muddly internal mess. Here I am, hearing a clean clean sound, made shiny with beautiful progress from break to refrain, those purposeful guitars sidling an indecicive rhythm, made shiny with well-pronounced intellectual but innocent words, voiced caringly, collaborated together to gather moments of profound vivacity, those kind of words… My apathy, their apathy painted on the walls with telling forceful well-intending emotions. My head is developing some constitution of boy and girl, those two different types of soul, harmonising vocalising some coloured-leaves of love and cohesion, blending all my rickety toils into an appetising good-looking mush.
I’m sitting in the kitchen with some spaghetti in the pan, boiling water, nodding my head, tapping my foot on the shiny wooden floor to the sound of Dollywood from my little laptop, admiring their almost 3D artwork, loving the two songs they have on their SoundCloud. I wish right now I was in a pub or a bar in Canterbury at one of their gigs dancing my socks off, taking my socks off and brandishing them above my head. I don’t have much recollection of what exactly I wrote in the first paragraph, but I know it was very much inspired by a stream of consciousness, cascading from the listening experience, ears to head to fingers without much second thought. Something instantly beautiful to the music; the thing that caused and inspired spur of the moment high enthusiasm in written word on this music blog, that’s usually what it always is.