It's in the gentle way he touches the piano and the guitar.
It's in the dreamy way he closes his eyes when he sings.
It's in the painfully sweet inflexions of his voice.
It's in his talent of screaming out his ideas while simply whispering the words.
It's in the peace and quietude of his songs.
It's in the passionate way he lives his music.
It's in the pure perfection of his lyrics, in the way they fit me and everyone else around me.
It's in his modesty, the modesty of the man who loves and lives his music.
It's in the low and sensual tones of Volcano...
...in the sweet and simple lines about life in Cannonball...
...in the painful description of the way life passes in The Blower's Daughter...
...in the desperate cry for lost love in Accidental Babies...
...and in the heartbreaking, mind-numbing, soul-shaking, against-all-senses-and ration love in 9 Crimes, my personal favorite.
It's Damien Rice, and no other.
No comments:
Post a Comment