“Brain surgery. Intensive care unit. Dead silence, like a hard stop at full speed.
Only tranquility. For the first time, surrounded by the void.
I finally had time to think.”
A redeeming aura comes about when Santans sings ‘Come Undone’. An examination of sorts in an underground malaise, the clarity of thought, blossoms within the tight lipped caverns of Santans’ lyrics.
Santans questions: “My creative journey – as I knew it – was over. The golden thread I followed for so long led nowhere. I had not only lost my goal, but myself. Should I let go, hang music up or set the sails once more?”
A walk about the salinity of it all, Santans incredibly pure emissions of veracity, collides with what’s in reality and what’s in the future to come.
The dialect of love for a different kind of love, gently floats onto the surface and lathers up for the next.
Craft of cosmic insurgence.