Daytrotter Session - Sep 21, 2012
- Welcome to Daytrotter
- King Of The Willow Tree
- The War
- The Monkey
- Wichita Lineman
The music that Swedish singer-songwriter Sofia Talvik makes tries to get to the bottom of how to know when you’ve either given all of the pieces of your heart away or when there’s still a little to be peddled. It’s not an exact science, as there are remainders and carried ones to deal with in the calculations. It can be supposed and it’s more times than not under-reported, for no one wants to be sitting there, seen as a dried up lump unable to give any more, like a dairy cow just after breakfast time. The people that float through Talvik’s moonlit sonnets try to find out what kinds of reserves they might still be able to tap into, but they’re resigned to see all that they’ve gotten themselves into through. They’re willing to bake under the sun and they’re willing to be crushed under the weight of a feeling that they’re to be helpless to the ways that their emotions are going to take them. They’re going to take plenty of body shots. They’re going to be thrown into wars they weren’t certain they took a side in. They are going to – most likely – live out there days with all kinds of collateral damage to deal with, a collection of shrapnel lodged so precariously close to all number of vital organs that no doctor would even consider operating on. The people in Talvik’s songs are weary, but they’ve also, miraculously, retained the stars in their eyes, those blazing gleams that they’ll be damned if they ever let get rattled or ripped from them. These are people who pray – ever so lightly and quietly – for the summer sunlight that comes around but once a year, albeit for an extended period of time. They always beg it to stay and they’re always rebuffed, as the light proceeds to cool and retreat as the year grows long. Theirs are stories of relationships sputtering, or sometimes barely starting, not sure of themselves. They are of broken light and broken nights and certainly broken people, who occasionally find themselves seeking the empty therapy “in the tall glass of gin.” They’ll come out of all of their efforts with the same proportion of body and heart that they went into it with. It could either be what they’re most or least afraid of.
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