I am writing songs that no one will ever sing. Songs that do not recognize themselves. And do not mean anything. I am writing songs that stretch and consume all my time. Songs that do not know where to stop. And do not know how to rhyme. I am writing songs that turn upon themselves as they go. Songs that require some patience. Songs that seem too slow. I am writing songs that do not know what to do. Songs that are impossible. Songs that I live through. I am writing songs that I am not sure that i can end. Songs I want to give you. Songs I am not sure i can defend.
i cannot read this. i cannot read anything that is too close to the truth. i can only write it with my instruments and abandon it. but when you read it, i return. i become something close to a poet, but more like a man who was certain he could be understood, even if it was not by him.
They kept their dreams in the same room so they would not be lonely. At night, they put them on for fear they would not recognize each other without them. After a while, they became more comfortable, more familiar. After a while it did not feel like dreaming at all.
Here is the language I have settled on. There is no sleeping now. It is not possible when you know what the night is for. Here is the bed I will not return to. There is no city now. It is not possible when you know what longing is for. Here is the legacy I leave behind. There is no hesitating now. It is not possible when you have been given a body that does not quite fit, that wants to wear your scars with pride.
I thought Pratt’s On Your Own Love Again was the best album of 2015, and I am feeling confident her new album, Quiet Signs, out Feb. 8, will be a strong contender for best album of 2019.
What strikes me about the material I’ve heard so far is how she has used the canvas of a recording studio to make something even more intimate and gossamer-like than her previous 4-track work.
Like if you opened your eyes while listening to it, it would end the way a dream does.
Anyway, very strongly encouraging you to pick up her new album when it comes out, especially since RTI is pressing it, so it should be flat, centered, and quiet, which almost describes her music.
I have no suit, no watch, and nowhere to be. For all I know, I am not waiting for anyone, but no one tells me anything. At least not what I want to hear. After a while, you stop waiting. You find a suit and a watch and somewhere to be, even if it is standing in front of a mirror wondering what it was that kept you so long.
All I ever wanted was a window in a room where any voice could reach me. Where I could take notes and diagnose the night. Where I could finally get some sleep without disturbance. Where I could wait for you to arrive.