ROSTAM - DON’T LET IT GET TO YOU
It’s something of a joke, to find a song that “speaks” to you, your situation. From where I am, people rib you no end for the familiarity, especially if it’s sentimental. When “Don’t Let It Get To You” had all the music blogs buzzing, I felt I was going through a personal Dresden. You’re allowed to roll your eyes at that possible hyperbole, but it was anything but. You know what they say, break down to build up, or something. So when Rostam sang through my headphones, I wanted to reach out to my new bestie, “Hey! You get me!” and everything.
Instead, I listened to it over 25 times straight. It’s something of a joke, to find strength in a song.
I want you, even when it don’t make sense.
KYLA LA GRANGE - VAMPIRE SMILE
Admitting to obsession isn’t easy, and very rarely is it attractive. Kyla La Grange’s catalogue betrays this norm, stomping and treading all over the banal modesty of those that quell their dangerous passion. With “Courage”, La Grange seared everyone’s hearts with her lyrics that spoke only and too much of an apathetic lover, one that never wanted the heart she lay bare. When she said, “I think maybe there’s a hole in your soul”, everyone screamed along in agreement. You couldn’t deny her, you wouldn’t have the strength.
On “Vampire Smile”, Kyla La Grange is unrelenting in her vulnerability and the fatal intoxication with her less-than-perfect object of fancy. If masochism was wound into 2.49 song, this is what it would sound like - lashing against your skin, scars on your body, a drunken flogging needed to pound you clean. When she sings “I want a scar that looks just like you” and “I’m going to get so drunk on you and kill your friends”, you shiver, and you believe it. This is no joke, she’s got you under her skin. Either you make it out alive, or you don’t.
The perilous fragility of fixation hasn’t ever sounded this beautiful or this honest.
THE MIDDLE EAST - BLOOD
Love is overweening. To think you can swim against the tide, chasing every collective dream, never coming up for air, you have to be more than just a little smug. When you spoke of it last, you said “forever”, hoping to stretch into the blue along with time. It never happened.
Love relents. You’re weary, burnt by the sun, one ear against the earth, a long and full life sailing slow behind you. The end doesn’t feel foreign - you’re counting the days and putting on your best clothes for it.
All you want now, is to breathe.
