Friday, 23 May 2008

Music makes us different: happier, rawer and bloodier, revved up for revolution, sleep-ready… Nina Simone makes me want to drink whisky, wear lipstick, and smoke cigarettes. Ani di Franco makes me want to get in a car, and drive, fast, down empty country roads. Bjork makes me want to put on a big feathery headdress and walk through the woods at night making friends with owls. The Roots make me want to dance my trainer soles paperthin at a street party on Brick Lane.

Bon Iver makes me different. In the split second it took for him to suck air into his magnificent bellows, the entire audience held still in their bodies whatever air they had, the cars outside slowed to a quiet swish on the wet tarmac and the drivers switched their radios off, the bricks of the building paused their slow crumbling, static filled the air and our ears. And then he opened his mouth and wailed. And crooned. And yelped and cursed and railed, and the damp drums pounded and the sweet faced boy with the baritone guitar sang like a choir boy.

Listen now and be made different in a good way. Or your money back.

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