Less so on returning to it tonight.
The ‘In May’ similarities even stronger… with perhaps added Michael Nyman.
Listened to it about 5 times tonight, and Wayne's interpretation is impossible for me to deny.
Spittingcat wrote: ↑Fri 07 May 2021, 7:57 pm
Have you heard “In May”? It’s a musical “play”, and absolutely in the same vein as this track. Very moving. Highly recommended.
As for this track… I like the music, and the vocals, but they don’t quite sit together for me yet. The vocals are far too prominent and “on top of” the music for me… too loud and push the music into “background” status, when it would be more interesting (to me) for it to be the focus.
I concur. Once the initial shock of the track stylistically is past it has more layers than an onion and is deeply affecting. We are so lucky, the diversity of their back catalogue is incredible.
Well said DricoDrico One wrote:There is always a kernel of hope with Pet Shop Boys. I come back to them time and time again because, even in moments of disillusionment, disaffection, or despair, there remains the possibility of escape. And so it is here. The very first verse seems to describe scenes by a death bed. Is this the moment of death itself? "Present tense is future past...Nothing moves or ever will".
"I'm going home..." is striking in that context. Neil, to me, paints a moving, vivid, and emotive picture of one floating from this life to another. It's very Catholic, the sense of passing through to another realm where a form of redemption can be found. And this is the theme of Pet Shop Boys, themselves: escaping to somewhere better. There is a foreboding in Chris's orchestration, and a feeling that this is a profound journey we are observing. Perhaps it is a journey of the mind, or from this life to something else, even if that something else is simply an escape...to nothingness. Yet, there is also a lightness of touch amid the bombast, a glimpse of freedom as the traveler frolics, liberated from "bones and blood and anxious anger."
There is always that possibility of movement, from one place to another with Neil and Chris. The "here and now" is rarely satisfying, so it's that possibility that provides the hope. From Two Divided By Zero to Will-o-the-Wisp, it runs through their entire oeuvre like a track. There is always a train to take to another place and time.
I find Cricket Wife an affecting piece. Despite the heavy oppressiveness on view, there is an underlying gaiety and merriment to be found amid the profundity and leaden gloom.
Something moves and always will.
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