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Summer, for me a chronic melancholic, is a real torture. That need to have fun or go out because it's summer bothers me, irritates me. It always seems like something has to happen in summer but in the end, almost nothing ever happens, rather, I always feel a bit out of place, I who always wear something black, who always has that "I'm here but not really" aura.
Then - it happens every year - I am reborn in September, when the sunlight begins to be more subdued, when they take down the umbrellas, when there is that wonderful end-of-summer atmosphere!
In this "discomfort," only music manages to immerse me in an atmosphere more suitable for me. That's why this morning my instinct led me to grab this CD at my trusted little shop, I am going backward with the production of Arab Strap.
I really liked "Monday At The Hug..." (thanks Serestoppone) but this album is something else. The title itself, "Il filo rosso," immediately made me think of listening to it from start to finish to understand how the pieces are connected to each other.
In fact, it almost feels like listening to a single song. The changes in tone are minimal.
The instruments are absolutely less prominent compared to "Monday..." (I miss the violins a bit). The melancholic voice that almost tells stories, intrigues, loves, and betrayals rather than singing is never annoying... it's relaxing, it makes you want to close your eyes, listen, and nothing else.
So, a nice album, I bought 3 more this morning but today I will listen only to this one, I will actually lower the shutter a bit more... there's too much light outside!
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
01 Amor Veneris (03:48)
The rain woke us up.
You turned round and just did it.
Good morning, slow down.
Have you remembered where you hid it?
You cried in the kitchen.
We made up in the hall.
I watched you get dressed.
Those boots make you too tall.
And we made each other late,
'cause I took my watch off there,
So it wouldn't scratch your skin,
Or get tangled in your hair.
It wasn't long ago
We went on guided tours
But I forgot what it meant
To pretend my hand is yours.
It's best in the morning.
When we know it won't be rushed.
So leave the curtains closed
And come back when you've brushed.
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