30 aimee manncharmer
This whole record sounds like a sequel to Ballantines, the song that wrapped up the previous one: the music is as polished and cheerful as bitter are its lyrics. In the target of the 40-something american songwriter we find, this time, those charming hypocrites who manage to rule the world and get everything to turn in their favour. The record misses some poetry from her early works (Lost in space above all) but confirms Aimee Mann’s talent as a storyteller. Read More
Phia is a strange creature from Australia who studied piano for ages and then decided that she prefers playing the Kalimba, an african instrument that stays all on the palm of one hand and has a slightly metallic sound. She sounds like a mix of Bjork, Shara Worden and some other indie stuff. She loops, sings well, covers Radiohead and her lyrics are complex long texts that somehow she manages to turn into music.
I grew up in a small, quiet village and I know the advantages of living in the countryside; I actually come to miss it, every now and then. But at the same time I’ve always known that my place had to be in a dimension where ridiculous, dangerous, unexpected things happen, where stories clash into each other and possibilities are so wide that you can’t even start to imagine them.
The city is definitely my place, and whenever I listen to this song by the War on drugs I immediately flash back to my first months in Berlin. There’s a vibrant, sleepless, alive mood attached to this song and that’s the same mood I got when I used to walk through the streets of Mitte by myself, right after work.
Take me back to the one I love. It’s not far, it’s on the way. I’ve been ramblin’