Club 8
And now: high school reunions
Since we’re on the subject of old friends, a few people from my high school graduating class are setting up a reunion to take place later this summer.
I’ve mentioned before that I was never even remotely close to being popular in high school; in fact the years I spent with those people in that environment were aggravating, frustrating, and self-depreciating, so the idea of actually being part of this reunion is laughable to me. Not because I still harbor some unhealthy, double-decade old resentment towards the large majority of the student body who took wicked joy in making my life hell. There was a time I would have, but I’ve since then made peace with it, accepted those events are formative, and moved my cares and anxieties elsewhere.
No, I don’t feel like going to this reunion for the simple fact that it would just be unbearably awkward. I didn’t have any friends in my graduating class, so there’s nobody I’d actually be keen on seeing. I’d remember a lot of people, and quite possibly a good number of people would remember me, and have the maturity to strike up some “So what have you been up to?” small talk, but that would be pretty much it. I didn’t share any good moments with any of those folks, so there would just be nothing really to talk about, nothing to reminisce about, no common ground where we could slap each other on the back and relive the old days. I’d just end up being the guy who nobody has anything really to say to, and that’s a situation I can really make sure I avoid.
I’d much rather be coerced into sharing a moment with a couple of my favourite Swedes, Club 8, and listen to their latest bare-bones undertaking, the melancholic Jesus, Walk With Me, composed without the assistance of its usual synth-driven arrangements. In fact, the duo rely mostly on the strength of a solitary, glistening acoustic guitar serenely picking along the euphonious Karolina Komstedt’s harmonic, delicate, dreamy vocals. Aside from some muted horns for texture and some abstemious bass reverberation for drama, the song’s sparse yet meticulous instrumentation evokes a penetrating intimacy, advocated by private existential reflections, discreetly bared in whispering confidence.
It’s kind of funny to think that someone would feel closer to a music artist they never met than to people you spent five years of your life with.
MP3: Club 8 - Jesus Walk With Me
www.club-8.org
myspace.com/club8
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