Sunday, September 10, 2006

Song On The Radio

The organ pedal notes and the nervous snare come over the car radio, I'm returning from an errand, It only takes a second for me to identify the song, and when the singer comes in it all comes flooding back...

we live on a mountain right at the top

...the lyric describes a fairy tale, an idyll...

there's a beautiful view from the top of the mountain

...but if I had grown up seeing Esja every morning it would seem normal...

every morning i walk towards the edge and throw little things off

...she describes the imp of the perverse that lives in all of us...

like: car-parts, bottles and cutlery or whatever i find lying around

...never has littering sounded so romantic...

it's become a habit a way to start the day

...and the raw passion of a woman toward her lover...

i go through this before you wake up

...ambivalent, confused feelings...

so i can feel happier to be safe up here with you

...when I first went to Iceland, I knew little about the singer...

it's real early morning no-one is awake

...and then, when I returned home, I discovered her, a bit at a time...

i'm back at my cliff still throwing things off

...her triumphs and tragedies...

i listen to the sounds they make on their way down

...I became enchanted...

i follow with my eyes 'til they crash

...infatuated...

i imagine what my body would sound like

...the beauty of her poetry and its severity overwhelmed me...

slamming against those rocks

...I returned to Iceland, with my eyes opened this time...

and when it lands will my eyes be closed or open?

...and began to really discover the place and its people...

i go through all this before you wake up

...a bit at a time...

so i can feel happier to be safe again with you


...the arrangement dissolves, the instrumentation becomes sparser, the snare disappears, then the bass, and when the percolating synths stop the string quartet is left to play alone, a wistful, descending pattern... The DJ is kind enough to let the song fade to silence... I reach home and the mood is broken, but the imagery remains... And I shall return...

By Professor Batty



2 Comments:

Blogger Professor Batty said...

"Hyperballad" by Björk


Blogger sharon spotbottom said...

picturesque

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