February 26, 2008
Over and over again. And again some more. You learn the lyrics in less then ten minutes. You sing it in the shower and it follows you. Music can do that sometimes.
Not too often these days. My younger ears must have heard more. Or had not heard enough and they were hungry. Maybe life is too fast to escape as much into song. I've traded my iPod for my NY Times on the bus to work. Sad, eh?
But there she is. iTunes doesn't lie. 22 times I've listened to the track in as many hours. I've also listened to the same song remixed and acoustic. I'm a fanatic.
"Maybe we can make it happen, baby." Her voice knows it won't. There is a lot of Kate Bush and a dash of Cyndi and an electro-thump that Annie Lennox would have loved, when she made music that meant something. When her hair was shorn and colored and ambiguous.
The simplicity of the lyrics. The strings. The synth stabs. They simply layer and layer and then reach this point. And she's sad. So sad. "And it hurts with every heartbeat." I know, Robyn.
Reinvented from a Britney-like career in the mid-90s she proves that pop princesses can have heart. And soul. And edge. And talent. She's so special, my new obsession.
Comments (1)
Thanks for the recommendation. Ever since I realized my musical tastes stopped developing after college I've been trying to learn new about artists. So, this was a perfect blog for me.
Posted by Marc Acito | February 29, 2008 12:39 AM
Posted on February 29, 2008 00:39