This time too, summer will fail; the sun will soon squander all its energy, withdraw its tongues of fire into its den, and lick its warm wounds.
Even today, if at twilight we tried to stretch our breath toward the horizon, we would feel the first gusts of a bittersweet breeze that soothes the pores, a breeze coming from afar and from the future, from September and from Galaxie 500.
A breath that blows among dreamy arpeggios, among languid ballads dancing on the melancholy of leaves foretelling their yellowing.
“On Fire”, yet in reality, all that remains of the fire are its ashes, the smell of smoke. The sad spectacle of embers now extinguished and the unconditional surrender of melodies dripping with heroin beseeching another dose, a final electric solo to inject into the veins.
Proto-Slowcore that reflects the sweet bitterness of shortening days, when we find ourselves bent over our past and small counterpoints of sax, harmonica, and organ rekindle memories a little.
And then that bloodless and stern voice, a ghost wandering among precarious and creaking harmonies that seem like they might fall apart if looked at a little more closely.
The lights of Galaxie 500 dazzle and dishearten, protect and sublimate. Codeine and Low will continue the work.
"'On Fire' is the album of artistic consecration for these three now former youths."
"It's the kind of album one can sink into, wrapped in the liquid and expansive emotions of Tell Me or Snowstorm."
This “whining” is indispensable to me because in this record... are all my weaknesses, my insecurities, melancholy, sadness, my adolescence and youth.
We must prepare to prevent the transition from happening in catastrophe, and only aware individuals who understand the situation will be able to defend themselves.