A soft encounter, of breath and enchantment, clings at the ribs of romance and images for what it means to really love. It hurts, to be. It hurts, to seek.
And when the repeating scars of that which is love, falters and once again, you lie in your bed, looking at the neon sticker starts on your ceiling, doubting and breathing; breathing and doubting. The cause of this pain, is nothing compared to nothingness of being. At least that’s what you tell of yourself.
With dark tones and enlightened 60’s love-tragedy in the grains of ‘Phonograph’, the song sizzles with conviction with Vlad Holiday’s exalting vocals and of vibes that shimmer as the night.
Love is fleeting at times. Passion is fleeting, as in conjunction. But the length of these two faulty concepts, isn’t the final say for how good and pure that attention to unity, must have been. How intense the fire, is the hallmark that is burdened within the song.
The heaviness, is all of us in the same state of circumstance. The heaviness is where we can really live.
Vlad is Brooklyn based. His music should be based in your consciousness.