NOW AND THEN.
Now and then, I receive friend requests from bands on MySpace. Mostly, I accept, listen to the music, and more often than not say, huh, pretty good. Not bad. Ah, I remember them. Mental note to go to their show.
But rarely am I thrilled. Rarely am I downright moved by the music. But THE WORLD WITHOUT MAGIC, this is your lucky day. You thrilled me, wowed me, moved me.
Perhaps it was the mood I was in. I was on the 6 uptown tonight, and it was a beautiful December night, and there were tourists bundled in the car, all rosy and happy with gift bags galore. And a pregnant homeless woman begged, and the lady in the mink coat across from me nudged her husband and he took out a $20 bill to give ot her. And the Mexican serenaders came out, and the tourists squealed with glee. And a father sat across from his two sons and his face was so full of love as the two asked him anxiously what stop they were getting off at, that it was palpable. It was in the air, something to taste and smell and feel. That sense of goodwill that unfortunately only rolls around when fat men in red appear. I get the feeling that the menorahs aren’t the reason for the good tidings. Which is unfortunate.
But back to The World Without Magic. So I come home, warm myself up, light the candles, take out the trash, check the mail. And here it is, this invite to listen to their music. And I say what the hell, I’ve had a hell of a week, a week full of the accumulation of months of an endeavor which ended in the single phrase: Je n’ai quelq’un qui m’aime.
And “The Quiet Life” came on. In its simple, simple glory. In it’s “We’ve Been Had”, French Kicks-y, Levy-y smoothness. The way that the lead singer plays on the syllables of Annabelle. The sweet rhymes that soothe and the beautifully crafted phrases: “After brushes of love/Call them out/ Make a move/Let the quiet life/Cradle you”.
The hushed drums lull you. The lead singer’s melodic, playful voice evokes love, love lost, sympathy and sadness. The simple keyboards are, I believe, the saddest thing about the song. The notes themselves are lyrical, and the simplicity and child-like nature of them make me cry.
And the crescendo of the song near the 3-minute mark is amazing. Moving to the utmost extent that the word expresses. It starts as a single cymbal, beating in time to the “That stand apart from you” phrase. But then! Then we have melotrone (I think), we have glissandos galore, backing vocals, a doubling tempo, and a whirlwind of music. But as soon as it’s here, it’s gone. Leaving you remembering the good time you had. And wishing it wouldn’t go. Much like the subject of the song.
This is incoherent. This is not a normal review. This is not edited. Nor will it be. I have just had a visceral reaction to music. And quite frankly my friends, I have not had that in awhile. Too long.
The World Without Magic: Thank you. I hope that you receive the success you are warranted. Bravo.
The World Without Magic.
Rock Photos:
February 16, 1954.
Marilyn Monroe entertains the troops in South Korea.
Taken for Bettmann/CORBIS.
Le jour où je n'aurai/Plus du tout l'âme en peine/Le jour où moi aussi/J'aurai quelqu'un qui m'aime-S.