Last week I made a solo Thursday through Monday trip to
Ireland, and lying in my Dublin hostel bed on my first night in the Republic, I
fell asleep to my Irish lover, Damien Rice. When listening to Damien, everything
within me goes quiet, and unexplainably, I want to cry, not because I am sad or
nostalgic or in any way upset, but because the soft, throaty tones of his voice
offer a moment of honesty.
I spend so much energy constructing, maintaining, bearing a
21-year-old stone fortress, repeating: Keep your head high. Keep your emotions tucked
away, cleanly. Breathe, like you know exactly what you are doing.
When the truth is most of the time I feel like I am barely
keeping my head above water.
Then, Damien.
Pressing play, he never draws attention to himself. He never demands I listen to him. He just plays on, hushing the chaos, saying, “There are no walls here.” And instead of struggling in that water, I’m lying on the bottom on my back. Everything is quiet and still and heavy, and though I am underwater, I can breathe, fully, steadily. And everything, at least for a while, is okay.
Pressing play, he never draws attention to himself. He never demands I listen to him. He just plays on, hushing the chaos, saying, “There are no walls here.” And instead of struggling in that water, I’m lying on the bottom on my back. Everything is quiet and still and heavy, and though I am underwater, I can breathe, fully, steadily. And everything, at least for a while, is okay.
Cannonball
Delicate
Blower’s Daughter
Eskimo
Amie
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQ1_RhaJznc&feature=related
For another great artist, see my tribute to Josh Ritter here.
For another great artist, see my tribute to Josh Ritter here.
emotions are so messy and if i let em go everyone will stare. if you knew the night i just had you would see how incredibly much you sharing this vulnerability means to me. how i miss you, my friend, your truth and honest love.
ReplyDeletethank you
alex