Review Summary: 7 billion dead laptops
lemme explain u a thing --
every hour of every day there are a gajillion (yes this is a word leave me be) sounds and songs being conceived and written down and recorded on the voice memo app of an iPhone 7 like those little recordings form an incomplete timeline of insecurities and charmingly slipshod metaphors. these soundbites of the soul (as no one has ever called them) aren't supposed to exist for anyone save the person that creates them, intended only as purgation -- to extricate one’s being of that faux pas they made four years ago or that time they drank so much that buying a gatorade on the way home the next morning was the highlight of the whole week…
*ahem*
did u know that you are probably someone’s idea of a great artist? those clunky, clumsy, contrived metaphors you wrote that fell victim to your own dismissive scoffing probably could be the image that a stranger falls asleep to. a simple but reassuring note is all it takes, i think, in both the lyrical and the musical sense -- i have been mumbling
i’ll be here / if you need me all week. someone always is.
you are a craftsperson of humanity and yet you never leave your bedroom. you’ve captured the sounds of the children playing on the jungle gym across the street, and you scrapbook entire conversations just to keep yourself close to the people you love.
and with the candid samples and the simple, but entirely heartfelt, lines about parents and meaning and purple hair die (not dye, because then it wouldn’t be a pun), you make music of low fidelity, intoning softly so as to not speak over the listener. there is, of course, the tentative strums of a ukulele, the waltz of unassuming synths and the careful application of piano. life can be beautiful after all.
but you worry about others hearing it. it
is a starkly personal affair, if we're being real with each other. don’t worry, though; your music is pithy and relatable, perfect for an age where people either overshare or share too little. it is unconcerned with what is unimportant, like presentation or pretention, and it is content with itself.
i need to go to sleep now, but i want to reiterate that your ideas are worthwhile. i want you to realise that simplicity is a virtue in your hands. really, i just want you to write more music -- people all around the world are doing it too, but their songs will never be like your songs. i couldn’t think of anything more unifying.
