Cerulean Veins - Love Won't Save Us Now
San Diego is an adorable ghost, moving at night within the corridors of a couple's mind, capable of writing and printing the mystery of existence within musical bundles, where everything appears as a salvific rite and consequently important in its effectiveness.
Ten years after the beginning of a voyage into the oceans of darkness, Cerulean Veins is back with a single and a new album soon to be released: certain anniversaries should be celebrated well and they do it brilliantly.
Something exciting, unexpected, on the border between selfish anticipation and the candid wonderment of a child gazing at the sky, happens with this song. Disruptive in rhythm, with skin-scratching guitar swings, and Dustin Frelich's usual, commanding, marvellous voice making listening a delight with dancing tears. When verse and refrain coexist as a legitimate consequence of a fiery, passionate flirtation, what ensues is a gloomy well-being that leads to the pinnacle of unstoppable enjoyment. He and his wife Amanda Ashley Toombs pilot and direct this band into territories where conscious glances cling to the need to organise time in a bubble in which to hold one's breath. It happens, then, to impact on the story of the failure of love, which will not save, will no longer protect people, and to convince us of this they do so by writing a song that, urging us to move relentlessly in our living spaces, will take away some of the pain but not the awareness.
And it is a primitive feeling that goes in and out of the broken heart, carried by darkwave flames and an updated postpunk as it ponders where to die without trust. It thrusts itself overbearingly into our heads to deposit its toxins, convincing us of its history and affirmation by making us sit down without strength on the floor, where the liquids of the Pacific Ocean push us to leave California and take us to the depths of sadness.
And it's a simple addition: clouds plus a broken heart equals the endless rain of an inevitable loss, but at least this composition teaches us what decadent happiness is, which, if it doesn't comfort, at least gives intoxicating drops of sweat.
We need to organise an empty, silent room, with candles as a carpet on which we will free ourselves for hours listening to this conscious burden, which will dig a pit full of black roses.
We should wear the call of scratchy screams and thank this band for having developed and perfected a style that can now be described as powerful and substantial, a black vessel that transports us to the music we adore and that they know how to make perfect. You press play again to take pleasant slaps in this ocean, where this song welds the need for something catchy but not trivial: Pop today can learn how much creativity lives deep inside intense souls...
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