I’ve never been that lonely. Even when I lived on my own in a small(ish) village, I only lived about three doors from the village Pub, and if people didn’t pop in on their way down to steal half of my dinner and drink my beer, then they called in on the way back to play my records and drink my spirits. In fact, there was hardly a day when people weren’t in that house, and some of my friends used it as an unofficial hostel, often deciding they couldn’t get home because of one reason or another and stopping over to get a free breakfast out of me as well.
But music, well, music can (and could) sometimes bring on that feeling of loneliness. The American writer and poet and actress and playwright and pretty much everything else Maya Angelou (if ever you want to witness an incredible life, you could start by looking her up on wiki) said ‘Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl back into my loneliness’.
London four piece Die Mason Die make music best described as (as they say themselves)’ ghost-like noises with bearded grins’. Their new record You’re lonely is a good example, with the track being more matter of fact than specifically sad, but has these static, almost heartbreaking moments, where the notes have plenty of space to crawl between. Even the brass that add colour to a climax sound slightly downbeat. If feeling lonely is this good, I wish I’d tried it before.
All of a sudden I need a hug. Or at least a pint.