Cross-faded hearts, look to the stars, Clipped tracks, is what love lacks, No distortion? Out of proportion, Sloppy vocals, Choose and cull, Fade in fade out, But never burn-out, Add some panning, but no "double-clicking" And the mic sends it's signal, and the visuals are spectral, The song ends with love, in the perfect octave.
This reminds me of small local shows I've attended, the ones where I am awesomly surprised at a band/musician that I've never heard of and am thrilled to have discovered and can't wait to share the news with others. The kind where I leave in love with a player, sweaty from dancing and hoping to dream of it again that night. You said much with few words which is hard to do sometimes.
I really enjoyed the first and last stanzas. Felt an observational perspective throughout. This speaks of the depths, of music theory, the poet has embraced.
