Can you say that a
song is like a girl? Does it have – as Robyn Hitchcock sang in the 80s – legs,
arms and Heaven? Be cynical, dismiss this nonsense all you want, but there is one
particular song I can’t stop thinking about.
For all big words and
strong epithets, 21st century doesn’t produce much in terms of
timelessness. It’s all one big fucking grave. Things die. Things die, and you
bury them. When something genuinely timeless appears, you will find yourself
covered in doubt. You will need time. Maybe years, maybe decades.
Back in 2013 These
New Puritans released an album I dismissed, did not much care for and fell in
love with. It was called Field Of Reeds. There’s one particular song lasting over 9 minutes,
“V (Island Song)”, and it’s the album’s centerpiece. Decidedly moody,
pleasantly long-winded, endlessly intriguing, it is so artsy it should stifle
itself to death. Not so. It’s breathtaking.
I’ve heard stories:
These New Puritans are pointless live. Poor musicians, bloodless human beings.
Truth is: I don’t give a damn. In “V (Island Song)” they created something
special. A record that will be spoken of in years to come. It’s something to
admire. To contemplate. You would hang it on a museum wall.
So perhaps not like a
girl, no. But a painting.
