Damien Rice & Lisa Hannigan
O

THE REVIEW

I often wonder where sweetness has gone in this world. Reality increasingly tastes like a sour lemon, our mouths are squeezed and anesthetized, no longer able to savor what surrounds us. Every day I realize there is no law capable of explaining the rituals of becoming. Sometimes relationships are nurtured for years, we witness their maturation and growth. We observe people drawing closer, sometimes terrifyingly so, like reflections in a body of water ready to drown us. Sometimes they drift apart irretrievably, due to a quibble, a triviality. I'm certain we are not always ready for something: a sensation, a phrase, a word, or a song. Perhaps it was no coincidence to listen to "O" by Damien Rice, it was just a step in the "same old scenario". The simplicity of a color and a face that, precisely for this particular disposition, will never be forgotten. The desire to express emotions and tears, to be moved by something intimate, like the whisper of a warm voice in the ear.

Musical aspects that captivate, perfect melodies, violins enriching the minimalism of an acoustic guitar. You smell the scent of wet grass and mist from the most introverted and mystical Ireland, the humidity seeping into the bones. The folk-pop, the search for emotion in tradition. Listening to this album disrupts the sensory realm, confronting us with the love we desire, the nostalgia for a land we've almost forgotten. We find ourselves only by getting lost in our romantic fantasies. "Love teaches us to lie, life teaches us to die, and it's not hard to fall when you're flying like a cannonball." Everything we seek must be somewhere, our hands nervously trying to open a crack, seeking the light that can illuminate our gaze. We breathe our sighs asking only "time, so move on, I'll be better... just give me time." The days pass, continuing to make us ask why there is only "nothing unusual, nothing strange, just a little older." We especially ask why one has to learn a lesson only after losing something important, something necessary. In an empty and colorless room, we wander whistling a tune and reflecting, seeking the answer to a question we do not yet know. In front of ourselves, we are unable to convincingly lie, we remain alone with our passion, our desire to embrace someone, the longing not to let them go, no matter what happens. This album corners us. It shoves in our faces the love we mistreat due to the media saturation to which we are accustomed. Helpless we cannot help but be moved by the slow progression of muffled arpeggios, in the throbbing of the double bass or in the flight of the strings. Damien's warm and whispering voice accompanies us, while Lisa Hannigan's vocal melodies seduce us again and again.

We are ready to lose everything, to lose ourselves in a smile longed for and sighed over. What we want is so dazzling that it is often impossible to clearly see its contours. I myself am bewildered and speechless, mouth agape at what I see slipping away. The possibility of stopping its path becomes improbable before it is simply and definitively lost. Our search is simply superfluous, not dependent on a step or a marathon. We read a book written by someone else, a story that does not concern us, or perhaps the opposite, really. We will write our story in another book, hoping that someone will be interested, praying that they can read our soul, once and for all.