Frozen desire. Absence. Distance. At the heart of the frozen crystal of robotic beats, icy guitar notes and threatening bass lines (remotely resembling Massive Attack) of the XX, there is a little spark dying to burst into a passionate fire. However, the spark remains in a lock-in situation of desiring… to desire.
Some call it the puberty perspective on the alien forms of love that grown-ups seem to live in the eyes of… puberty. I just love this new black, this new minimalist and clean wave of cold observations. These cold statements of wanting to be hot. And it’s been a while since I was officially a puber. Auto-suggestion.
Compare it to the wild and expressive liveliness of Jònsi, that I also recently fell in love with.
