FrancescaAnn
New member
A little something LOVELOVELOVE for all you softies.
Sure, i am small, but still i'll weave my way right up to the front.
It was only local, no big names and secret rules and slide of hand games. But the crowd was true, burning and churning with all shades of crazy, emanating radio waves pulsing with the pressure of so many days spent working up the sweat they spilled out on tonight's show, flying from their lips laced with spit and drip drops of their bloody grins. It fills and floods the pit, a torrential explosion expressed in energy so palpable it can wind all around you into your bones, weave deep into your muscles the movement is entirely organic. It makes you, and takes you away from yourself and gives you to the crowd, where everything is free. It's how we can survive; this is our religion. The amp is our altar and the sound is our scripture and the other bodies all around are tonight's saints.
I guess it's mostly the drums that make you move. The twitch in your eye is transubstantiated into a steady beat that bounces in your bones, booms across the hollow beneath your skin and your body becomes the rhythm. Bass dictates groove, the smooth movements around your shoulders and your hips. But the guitar is the showboat, the intensity building and blooming in that chasm of a chest-cage, striking full and rich against the edges of your skull, a burning, building sensation of a simultaneous exploitation of all the things you hate and everything you love.
lovelovelove loveIt's the culmination of the inflation in your deepest being, the pressure pushing from everything that sucks away at your soul as you plow through heavy days. This is the environment that can contain it when it peaks, when it spikes so high you feel like saying 'lovelovelovelove it' and giving in, you can take it here and let it erupt and ignite the most intense fulmination of fireworks from your flailing limbs down through your fingertips and it finally escapes you, exploding into the inexpressible expression contained in this very moment's movement. All of your body and every abstract inside it is alive in this moment.
lovelovelove It's the only air I breathe. It's the only time I feel like I'm actually doing anything, I can't deny the force of it, seething, squirming in my skin, shaking off the sweat, pushing everything away with all my might and getting pushed back just as hard and fighting not to fall but even if I do they will always catch you. Because it's good, we're screaming and steaming but we're smiling. It's pure concentrated good gripping you like only music can, giving you everything it can straight to your soul in a way that only the sound can reach you. It's everything I love and all I'll ever need, in that moment, but it's all trapped inside that moment and something you can't quite keep.
Because the show will always end. The songs run out of their words and then the music stops, and the then-gods, now just little local musicians go back to being that kid from my math class or my friend's older brother. The crowd collapses and evaporates, leaving behind only scattered debris across whatever floor this was before it became the platform that bore us forth to that separate plane of existing.
lovelovelove Only now can you feel the sweat on your skin, the sweet, slow bloom of bruises, slight suggestions of broken bones or maybe internal bleeding. But it doesn't matter because this moment has it's own magic. When the exhaustion starts to spread, filling up the muscles you've just emptied of all the things they were holding back, what's left is the most comforting, virgin white shade of calm. It seeps through you like an invasion of emptiness, sweet and slow and wrapping warm all around you and now, you can just be. You can sit in your skin and not want to scream, not scrabble at the inside of your skull trying to get out. You just lay back and be until the nothingness completes you, and takes you entirely. Sleep may indeed be akin to death, but this, music, is the most alive I've ever been.
HAPPY VALENTINES DAY MUSICIANS AND ALL MUSIC LOVERS!!!!
Sure, i am small, but still i'll weave my way right up to the front.
It was only local, no big names and secret rules and slide of hand games. But the crowd was true, burning and churning with all shades of crazy, emanating radio waves pulsing with the pressure of so many days spent working up the sweat they spilled out on tonight's show, flying from their lips laced with spit and drip drops of their bloody grins. It fills and floods the pit, a torrential explosion expressed in energy so palpable it can wind all around you into your bones, weave deep into your muscles the movement is entirely organic. It makes you, and takes you away from yourself and gives you to the crowd, where everything is free. It's how we can survive; this is our religion. The amp is our altar and the sound is our scripture and the other bodies all around are tonight's saints.
I guess it's mostly the drums that make you move. The twitch in your eye is transubstantiated into a steady beat that bounces in your bones, booms across the hollow beneath your skin and your body becomes the rhythm. Bass dictates groove, the smooth movements around your shoulders and your hips. But the guitar is the showboat, the intensity building and blooming in that chasm of a chest-cage, striking full and rich against the edges of your skull, a burning, building sensation of a simultaneous exploitation of all the things you hate and everything you love.
lovelovelove loveIt's the culmination of the inflation in your deepest being, the pressure pushing from everything that sucks away at your soul as you plow through heavy days. This is the environment that can contain it when it peaks, when it spikes so high you feel like saying 'lovelovelovelove it' and giving in, you can take it here and let it erupt and ignite the most intense fulmination of fireworks from your flailing limbs down through your fingertips and it finally escapes you, exploding into the inexpressible expression contained in this very moment's movement. All of your body and every abstract inside it is alive in this moment.
lovelovelove It's the only air I breathe. It's the only time I feel like I'm actually doing anything, I can't deny the force of it, seething, squirming in my skin, shaking off the sweat, pushing everything away with all my might and getting pushed back just as hard and fighting not to fall but even if I do they will always catch you. Because it's good, we're screaming and steaming but we're smiling. It's pure concentrated good gripping you like only music can, giving you everything it can straight to your soul in a way that only the sound can reach you. It's everything I love and all I'll ever need, in that moment, but it's all trapped inside that moment and something you can't quite keep.
Because the show will always end. The songs run out of their words and then the music stops, and the then-gods, now just little local musicians go back to being that kid from my math class or my friend's older brother. The crowd collapses and evaporates, leaving behind only scattered debris across whatever floor this was before it became the platform that bore us forth to that separate plane of existing.
lovelovelove Only now can you feel the sweat on your skin, the sweet, slow bloom of bruises, slight suggestions of broken bones or maybe internal bleeding. But it doesn't matter because this moment has it's own magic. When the exhaustion starts to spread, filling up the muscles you've just emptied of all the things they were holding back, what's left is the most comforting, virgin white shade of calm. It seeps through you like an invasion of emptiness, sweet and slow and wrapping warm all around you and now, you can just be. You can sit in your skin and not want to scream, not scrabble at the inside of your skull trying to get out. You just lay back and be until the nothingness completes you, and takes you entirely. Sleep may indeed be akin to death, but this, music, is the most alive I've ever been.
HAPPY VALENTINES DAY MUSICIANS AND ALL MUSIC LOVERS!!!!
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