For Bjork:
The moon crept up over the Bowl, you began to sing, and I began to weep. The sounds were so pure, like Nature herself. How dare you! How DARE such beauty exist?! I'm on such a high because of that show, and I can't come down. And now, as I sit here and write, this black cat is watching me, and wants to know,
"What's so deep?"
And the answer is, a girl who sings like a volcano!
We'll let them keep guessing whether we met last night or not ...
Oh, you elfin singer of songs, you frosty wet iceberg of human feeling, you dazzler of Tinseltown, you intense bringer of the Mood. Bjork, you're fantastic!
As she sang, I thought of sinister deeds I'd performed centuries ago. I saw witches burn and empires fall. In that growl was the eternity of the present. Long, soaring notes - chills. She started slow, and then built them up into a frenzy, the dancey stuff at the end put it over the top. I thought of Vienna, of Berlin, of SN and dancing with Tanja and Anja while your music played behind candlelight.
Emotional landscapes, traveling through time and being precisely in the second of the now, of the moment. The earth moves and the moon stays still. Reach for the stars, and you just might get there. And the guy right next to me told a tale of hitting a car head on at 75 mph, and living. Get it? And he saw the look in their eyes, his headlights on the grill, just before impact. It was all so surreal. This is really dangerous ...
What a girl - What a voice! Viva the Icelandic Octet! The Icelandic Octet!
Nature is eternal ... just like pure love.
-Todd