The Weeknd - Blinding Lights

Abel's lyrics fall into two clear categories:

Songs of contempt

(in which he is pointing out and making a topic of trendy shallowness of relationships,

which is not necessarily a part of anyone's actual relationship,

but they are a part of current social contract, normalized to the point of travesty)

And songs of yearning

(which seemingly show participants' vulnerable side,

their humanity

and openness for fine tuning required to make the relationship between two people work,

and which are - nota bene - even more deviant than the ones in the first group).

I adore Abel.

Not because of his attractive, polished production,

or fantastic dance rhythms

or his brilliant mind bringing together the classical and modern in loveliest, cornucopic cocktail

Cock Tail

but because of his wondrous multifaceted polysense

from which one hurt, damaged, everyday recipient

can always derive a different meaning,

and always the one that suits them the most.

Blinding lights have just emerged, and soon the rest of the new album will leak out.

The feeling is very much like discovering a beautiful, ornamental, jewel-crusted

dagger in one's own heart.

Sin city’s cold and empty

Oceansize -Superfluous to Requirements

Set between the albums Everyone into position (2005) and Frames (2007),
after Heaven alive (2005) single which was the first one from Everyone Into Position and the LP Frames (which was already showing Oceansize making gigantic steps toward the final end and Self Preserved While The bodies Float Up)
There is New Pin,
Surprising and unnecessary single released by their label at the time
- Beggars Banquet -
and on its B-side the wonderful and unrepeatable

Superfluous to requirements.

Vivacious, dreamy-eyed princess who, as if just woken up in the unfamiliar bed, roams the castle having been bestowed a most wonderful gift of trust, trust that she will not leave the owners castle open-doored and with its heart as empty as a ransacked safe deposit box,
void even from the calling card trace that would lead to a connection.

I heard it for the first time relatively recently
and since then I heard it for hundreds – maybe even thousands of times – set to loop it is repeating and repeating
and is making me soft and pleased.
Vennart, as always, does not hold back toward the protagonist, or the listener:
Seduced,
Fondly laid,
Interwoven with rhythm and meaning , we get slain, cleaned, taxidermatized
and set in space with our huge, ever watching, glassy eyes to observe the world flowing by.

Oh waiter, waiter, make that call, I miss a cue and cause a fall
As I sink the band plays on, I'm pleased as always, pleased
Oh danger, danger, cause of fall, I never claimed I knew it all
I start to wonder what went wrong and I wonder what I could've done
My heart amounts to 50 tonnes and pulls me under, pulls me under

Above text is my Facebook post published on 09/Sep/2019 - translated from Croatian

Post Malone - Better Now

Personally I am of the opinion that one should not be a slave to one's own expectations because finding extraordinary treasure in unexpected places happens more often than not.

Just like this picture.

You already know that I am especially fond of  finding male stories about relationship dynamics
(http://derzafanistori.blogspot.com/search/label/On%20Relationships),
and this story is one of the loveliest narrations.

Although Austin Richard Post
(whose nom de plume mention perhaps gives you the hives)
is famous for his laconic brevity,
his contagious presentation (covered in this wonderful exposé: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O2ZsYPWpGBA) has not overshadowed absolutely wonderful selection of motifs and
flawless narration
which in the demonstration of simplicity hides in plain sight
the most important of importants.

As the song progresses,
it grows from impressionism into hyper-realism,
and as it reaches the bridge before the last chorus dumps on the listener,
while not addressing the listener at all but rather the subject of the declaration:
Promise.
Warning.
Synopsis.

I promise
I swear to you, I'll be okay
You're only the love of my life (love of my life)

It is wonderful to find #RelatableContent in somebody else's experiences
and this content, before it turned relatable, was Austin's personal truth from which he could not run away
- so he wrote 'er a song

Above text is my Facebook post published on 06/May/2019 - translated from Croatian

War

Morning.

I'm emerging from a dream.

The cat jumps over me, onto me, into my arms,

happy because the change in the rhythm of my breathing translates to a full food bowl,

but my thoughts are filled with fresh memories and in my auditory cortex there is still ringing of the Grandson's interpretation of the Haile Selassie's address to the United Nations in 1963.

In the dream, I remember... that I am aware it is a dream and I'm letting the dream flow, for hours! Dream - that ersatz life, un-real, un-actual, but I WANT it to flow and I permit it for my thoughts and my arms and my heart.

In a dream,

I encounter him again after a long time, in the circumstances no less unpleasant and prickly than reality, with all his wonderful flamboyant uniqueness

And silence.

In the dream there is no silence, in the dream there is civility and cooperation,

No differences to patch, just the open undeclared partnership;

“We do what we must because we can”

and it is hard to overstate my satisfaction.

It is strange and magnificent

How much a person can be made happy by means of one's own neural substrate,

And stranger and more magnificent still

To see memories create new memories. 

Photo source here.

Interpol - All The Rage Back Home

It is dark. We are driving; I AM driving, and she is traveling on a passenger seat because she is a big girl already,
my daughter,
she is talking and waving her arms and meters go by, and kilo-meters, semaphores, street lamps and parking lots guarded by dogs,
we are driving
and the radio is on.

There is a song on the radio.
She is listening to the song and I am not because I am driving and because I am a thousand miles away from that car and from that radio and from that song,
but she is happy and she's waving her arms and she yells:

"Why don't we have more songs like this?"

and I have no clue who we are listening to but the question is a lead ball starting the Rube Goldberg machine in my head and after a stream of clicks and whirls and cubes and falls
in the time span shorter then two blinks of an eye
my brain comes up with:
"But we do! We have complete Interpol discography."

After we come home we look into Interpol, we ask for recommendation where to start - because I do not know their discography but rather their sound - and we listen to, recommended,
All The Rage Back Home.

I keep falling, maybe half the time, maybe half the time
I keep falling, maybe half the time, maybe half the time
But it's all the rage back home
It's all the rage back home

She claps her hands, ecstatic to stand in front of one more door leading into the room filled with treasure,
and I sit there motionless,
my insides cut open,
while wondrous hypnotic rhymes avalanche me with powdery whiteness of emotion.
Each wonderful snowflake feather-light mathematical jewel.
All of them together crushing weight of existence.

I keep falling, maybe half the time, maybe half the time
I keep falling, maybe half the time, maybe half the time
But it's all the rage back home
It's all the rage back home

(Above text is my Facebook post published on 05/Dec/2018 - translated from Croatian)

The Mountain Goats - No Children

The child fell in love with No Children by The Mountain Goats so that is what we are listening to every morning before facing our day.

She gets up first.

She pushes the wet cat food from the tiny bag into the cat bowls and puts the oatmeal into the microwave while Philly D. is still summarizing yesterday's news, and then she sits to eat and lets Darnielle tell us again (but usually at least three more times) this story of hope and despair and fatality and loss and alcohol and love and the moment trapped in the amber of poetry.

Having it before breakfast makes me a little bit sick,

but,

later on I go to work, I live life and on the brink of returning from work to life I sit in a car full of girls I'm driving home, across the street from Velesajam, while the wind is howling and the Park is waving to me with its lovely long fingers of branches full of fresh leaves

and in my head I hear John listing stuff

and the words shared with us by Andrija Škare about that song during the first Slušaj me.

Behind the eyes, in the dark space, the thoughts are billowing 

and the arrhythmic ticker softly progresses through its numbers. 

Life is beautiful. Pain is a trove. Be happy for this moment for this moment is your life.

Volcano Choir - Comrade

Recently

the world is like a treadmill:

if I'm not running fast enough then I fall

and break my head open.

Living dangerously!

...And yet...

this on-the-border life also holds the particular beauty of continuously being just one sigh apart from an orgasm.

Pain is so close to pleasure.

When the Repave was released, in 2013.,

I was not Vernon's fan because his work with Bon Iver felt too pretentious and poser-like

but Volcano Choir has completely thrilled me.

Today a friend reminded me of a recent listening through new Lambchop album

(The December-ish you is a fcukin masterpiece!),

and to remember Volcano Choir was just a tiny step forward.

Repave is growing old so nicely

and Comrade

my wonderful favorite

is lovely and lovelier than in 2013.

Everything in it is wonderful;

Auditory abundance

Vernon's jagged lyricism

Rhythm of coitus mixed with the context of military and of brotherhood...

                *             *             *

They say you ain't a comrade

Still, I'd know you'd come back

For a folly-ridden Romeo, you break down a fortress now Standing out in public Stained with your conscience

I know that you love me

You are just lawless, son