Blown out swells of sound ebb and flow and crash, fading out and droning on, making way for lost clips of found words, only to drown them out again. An endless cessation of waves onto the jagged basalt cliffs lining the coastline that you were supposed to call home, but never could, never will. The wreckage of a ship sits beyond the horizon’s mist, long forgotten, it waits, hull hollow and rusted, steel falls away in flakes, drifts out to sea. No one will collect its pieces because no one is searching for them. Land has turned its back on it, left it to be claimed, to be taken care of. Still, idly, it waits. It can not save itself, and so, it lets itself be overtaken by time. An amalgamation of past and present, uncertain of a future.
If only it had not run aground so long ago, had not been rendered useless, seen as unworthy of remembering. Rejected, it raged at first against the water, metal groaning in opposition to the tide, a losing struggle; salt and decay overtaking. Under moonlight, it is pushed and pulled, pieces of its bow shake loose and flow to shore on crests of foam. Still more move on further, to northern shores and driftwood strewn beaches. Disintegration does not always mean destruction. Scattered, it forms constellations on its own, far from scornful cliffs, no longer longing for them to remember, finally free enough to forget.
A Very Young Mountain debuts as the first release in two years from artist Love Letter, and is available on cassette through Rok Lok Records. Have a listen for yourself:
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