trip-hoppin'
I do not consider this a situation of 'opening up a can of worms'. I would rather see it as a re-examination of a past muse in the context of academic research and analysis. Heh.
Re-visiting Portishead and Massive Attack is going to be a sonic excursion for Nostalgia's sake for me - afterall I was the one who designed my own essay question.
There is a certain degree of excitement and trepidation which comes with acknowledging the presence of a past love. The former comes with discovering something you never knew about that love, despite the amount of time and effort invested in the relationship. The fear is the result of realising on what frail foundations that relationship had been built on.
Before you (for anyone who knows me and is reading this) decides to launch into fervent prayer against me being tugged back into the cynicism of triphop music again - fret not. It has not once more debuted as the love of my life, will never do, again.
Having said that, I am still going back to the song which started it all. Clothed under so many layers of interwoven ironies is that piece of Scripture - wandering stars, for whom it is reserved, the blackness of darkness forever - from the Epistle of Jude: 6
"And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgement of the great day."
[- the King James versh because other vershs have radically changed the choice of wording, making the parallels virtually impossible to draw]
At that time music really reflected who I wanted to be. It was a banner of identity I crouched under for shelter.
Now I know it is about how you read the music. The words have not changed, it is only we who have.
Some words you keep, others you leave behind. Almost like love.
Re-visiting Portishead and Massive Attack is going to be a sonic excursion for Nostalgia's sake for me - afterall I was the one who designed my own essay question.
There is a certain degree of excitement and trepidation which comes with acknowledging the presence of a past love. The former comes with discovering something you never knew about that love, despite the amount of time and effort invested in the relationship. The fear is the result of realising on what frail foundations that relationship had been built on.
Before you (for anyone who knows me and is reading this) decides to launch into fervent prayer against me being tugged back into the cynicism of triphop music again - fret not. It has not once more debuted as the love of my life, will never do, again.
Having said that, I am still going back to the song which started it all. Clothed under so many layers of interwoven ironies is that piece of Scripture - wandering stars, for whom it is reserved, the blackness of darkness forever - from the Epistle of Jude: 6
"And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgement of the great day."
[- the King James versh because other vershs have radically changed the choice of wording, making the parallels virtually impossible to draw]
At that time music really reflected who I wanted to be. It was a banner of identity I crouched under for shelter.
Now I know it is about how you read the music. The words have not changed, it is only we who have.
Some words you keep, others you leave behind. Almost like love.
"Some words you keep, others you leave behind. Almost like love."
aye...indeed.