Review Summary: And, I mean if you want, we can just stay here. Wrap me in your claws. I can be your reindeer.
I can shuffle to any song, and
The Yunahon Mixtape brings back all the right memories.
The record is like time spent at the beach. It’s puppy love and teenaged romance. It’s having sex at the moments I shouldn’t have, the moments when I wanted her nails raked down my back hard enough to draw blood. It’s confused, needless angst and the worst bastardizations of existentialism. It’s the last time you spend time together.
But it’s smiles, too. It’s talking all night, switching between texts and Skype and phone calls. It’s childhood games of hide and seek. It’s making love for the first time, the car filled with laughter. It’s the snow that falls outside her cabin. It’s discovering my sexuality. It’s the friendships I cherish, and the ones I torpedoed. It’s strength and hiding and
development.
It all makes me want to cry and smile. It’s a tear-streaked grin.
Unlike everyone around me,
Oso Oso doesn’t ask for my stammered explanations. I’ll be the first to admit I’ve become a better person in the progress of growing up. I’ve moved on from my mistakes, and so has everyone else. The track order doesn’t really matter. Each one draws out the same remnants of the feelings that I thought I huffed out years ago.
The album’s lyrics make me laugh and, two minutes later, blink my watery eyes. As Jade Lilitri switches between whispers and yelps, it follows me through the biting cold and melting snow and summer sweat. It simultaneously represents my relationships and only me, alone, no one else. While the guitars blare, I feel warm and relaxed, even in the middle of a chilly, downpouring rain.
In
shoes (the sneaker song), he perfectly sums up how I feel about the album. "Yeah, when I'm high with you, I'm high enough to touch the stars. And when we sing our song, the words never need to rhyme."
