To live in a house with no home
Photo by Damiao Santana
Sit in a patch of wild grass and slip on your headphones. Throw back a slug of whiskey lemonade and watch the sun deflate like a punctured yolk. Think about your most private regrets and your most secret desires. Feel the pale wind slip in and out of your T-shirt sleeves. And most importantly, put on "Curs in the Weeds," the new track from Horse Feathers' upcoming House With No Home. It's an ideal accompaniment to summer's end, ripe with spectacular but understated beauty, peaceful and serene but tinged with loss. It speaks to all the things we never got a chance to do, all the people we never got a chance to become.
Put the song on repeat. Watch the violet bruise of dusk overtake the the last spots of yellows. Marvel at the petty miracle of fireflies. Feel the wind get more aggressive and maybe even shiver a bit. By now, the full magic of "Curs in the Weeds" should be starting to sink in. Like its closely related brethren on Horse Feathers' tremendous debut, Words Are Dead, this is music that can't be rushed. The first listen might wow you, but it's going to grow deeper and more poignant with every play. Like the dark, it'll drip in slowly until you find yourself fully immersed.
Follow the trail back by the light of a scrap of moon. Feel the pebbles grinding into your soles. Toss back the last drops of alcohol. Admit to yourself the things you've long tried to elude. In that total solitude, you can feel the full effect of Justin Ringle's incredible voice. You'll be able to notice how placidly it seems to float above the music, lacing all the other elements together. How Peter Broderick's evocative strings keep switching between wistful and urgent, gentle and resurgent. How it serves as a perfect counterpoint to Ringle, and as another summer slouches toward its end, gives us a perfect song to memorialize what we're left with.
* MP3: "Curs in the Weeds" - Horse Feathers from House With No Home [Preorder it]
* MySpace: Horse Feathers