Go from the iris…
I always look forward to winter until that day when the wind is a little too chilly and all too few leaves remain, but we’re all still stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Autumn’s passing. The electricity in the air warning of the months-long rest to come for the green world, the graying of the sky... I know I’ll miss it when I wake up the next morning. Hifalutin
is an entrancing discomfort that will come to define those moments of trepidation, when I’m all too unsure that I’m prepared to put that much more distance between me and the beginning and acknowledge there's that much less between me and the end. When I’ll have to consider if I’m living hard
And we are what we are…
The soft, bubbling melodies precede a sort of mystifying madness to come. Synths pulsing among timid, staccato drumming and angelic vocals manage to build a feeling of somber regret over the course of fourteen tracks. Hifalutin
is an organic, expansive moment in time, and as the spectacular “Children” fades away with soft piano I feel that same sense of loss that is only intensified with the melancholy “delicate delegates”.
…To leave it where it was, and love it like it is
is a joy and a curse, far too dense for its simplicity, far too affecting for so few words. Far too compelling to leave behind. “Wonder” passes me by like that final day before winter, the last vestiges of beauty leaving me all too unsure that I’ve given it all it deserves.
I’ll invariably begin again and take comfort that this time around, I can try harder. Knowing what I already know, I can surely give it the attention it deserves. And if I can’t, there’s always next year.