one-hundred twenty-seven.

[cabaretlights.livejournal.com]

Clipped Wings
Man Without Country
Foe
2012

♥: Sometimes I am a victim of my circumstance: a bad year puts me in a bad state, convinced I will always be lacklustre, pointless. And then everything shifts: a haphazard documentary inspires a full teaching unit; a flash of memory sparks an upward tailspin; revisiting Claire Voyant with revolutions in mind, last week, reminds me of what it felt like to be 18 and vibrant. And then all the circumstances align, or something like that, and suddenly I feel like myself. Dancing at 1am to bad pop; breathing in open windows; wanting nothing more than another hour of feeling exactly like this.

I used to listen to music while watching specific DVDs and getting up to dance. That's how I discovered most of my favourite, most loved songs, and how I created the memories attached to many of them. I don't really do that anymore, for various reasons, but when my heart's in the right place, I remember what I used to do and I explode. And the song I happen upon that night, whichever one has the right connotations or melody or key change, that song will suddenly mean everything (because, for all the writing we do here, I, at least, will never be able to articulate precisely why a song means the world to me).

Tonight (writing this early, on Monday), it was "Clipped Wings."

I found it listening to an electropop mix I downloaded via Polly Scattergood's Facebook page (she is also featured), and it stood out brilliantly. I'm sure I skipped this album's release on NAR because it was labeled "shoegaze" (and because the cover screams the same, haha) but don't be fooled: this is shoegaze at its absolute finest, swirling and spinning and surprisingly melodically well-defined. It sounds like I imagine my heart would if it could sing what it's feeling, tonight. Vibrating, vibrating, vibrating, up and down and in my entire body.