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I was about a week late on the album review. Powerdove’s “Be Mine”. It sat there, I stared at my email inbox. My editor ended several sentences in question marks, my email had hundreds of unread messages, I had arrived from New Orleans after a series of unpredictable, yet —in retrospect— completely predictable occurrences.
Suicidal thoughts at the Mississippi, a failed relationship, discharging early from the train, something about being filed as a missing person for a week, 104 fever for 3 days, suicide-contemplation on the jetties of The Gulf, a concussion, car-ride and escapeism through and with my best friend, late nights, dark days, something about an overdose over there.
I was about a month late on my album review. After coming home after 2 weeks of vanishing, I laid in my vacant room and pushed “play”. The sky was grey; it had been raining for a week, they said. I listened to the album 28 times in a row. I do that for every album. This time it hurt, it hurt, it hurt. When I went to my laptop to get it out of me, to deal with it, to give it to the world, all I typed was “Fuck, this hurts” enough times to meet the 500-word word-count.
Needless to say, it took me an extra week; I don’t do many album reviews anymore.
Currently, I am listening to the album. I love it. It smells like that February rain, it feels cold, it hurts like it did when I hurt the most. I see the things I saw, I feel the things I felt, and I’m glad I drove myself insane with the album. It is a beautiful album. I can feel the carpet against my skin, the rash it gave me and how it felt when I laid there— without moving— until it played its 28 times— looping, driving me insane. I can smell the scent of ocean I carried with me, I can feel the anxiety of talking to my editor, I can feel the disappointment I had in myself. My fingers flexing, this track is in me.
Listen, just listen— above all things, it will make you feel something abysmal.
Also, there are free downloads on her bandcamp.
