The New Year
A little close to home, this one is
We’ve arrived at one of those peculiar, unique moments where I identify myself very closely to a song. Happens to everyone, I assume, to have a song nestle itself into one’s psyche beyond what can reasonably be appreciated from its composition, when melody and lyrics combine into a moment which exposes a place which is all too callow. I assume it does. And it’s happened to me, and I find myself in the semi-embarrassing position of having to write about it without giving too much away of myself while being fully aware that I already have. But that’s the situation I’m dealing with, having listened to The New Year’s extraordinary single The Company I Can Get.
Flowing along like a heartbroken 1950s ballad, The Company I Can Get is a soft-spoken, quietly distressed moment of muted intensity. As if it were determined not to make a spectacle from its very personal anxiety, the song feels like it’s being told in complete confidence, the rigours of loneliness too unforgiving to be carried alone, thus shared in an intimate, composed-yet-despaired moment. The piano sets the tender disheartenment, hitting each chord with an aching defeatism, shifting into a quavering, shivering solo mid-way through the song, in which languorous guitar licks make their appearance to add to the dramatic closure of this short song, as if everything had been said, regardless of how weighty it was to do it.













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