obsession…

It’s been about two years I think, maybe three, since I discovered the music of Damien Rice. I immediately got my hot little hands on everything he had recorded up until that point in time, and played it pretty much incessantly. I forced it on all of my friends, who fell in love with him as well. I was a woman obsessed.

It’s been about two weeks since Damien Rice’s new CD came out. It’s all I want to hear, it’s all I play, it’s constantly in my head. I wake up singing it, I sing it in the shower, I play it in my car, I sing it to my cat, I hear it everywhere I go. I don’t know what it is, but I am completely obsessed, insane, enraptured, eaten up with this singer. His music is so haunting, so beautiful, so cozy and familiar. His lyrics are so puzzling, so filled with regret and sorrow and complexity. His voice is imperfectly lovely and true. And I love it. He’s amazing. Go buy his CDs and you’ll see what I mean. (It doesn’t hurt that he is, like, the cutest little Irishman ever, and that he seems to not much care for the fine art of selling out. He’s like the Johnny Depp of music or something. which can’t be bad - Johnny’s pretty awesome!)