Review on "Strict Joy" masterfully routine

I came across, The Swell Season's new album, Strict Joy the other day and instantly pre-ordered the lp from their website-http://www.theswellseason.com/. During the first on many, listenings my favorite quote from Whalt Whittman came to mind, "Arouse! for you must justify me."

The follow up release to their unblemished Once album/movie, to me, Strict Joy seems masterfully routine. If I could ask them a question it would be, "How does it feel to be in complete control of the song, and therefore be able to-in every way-manipulate it into its own prefection?" One possible answer could be left to Neitzsche, he says, "In muisc the passions enjoy themselves."

If you liked Once and then forgot about it, shame on you. Luckiley for all of us, they did it again. Hope you check out Strict Joy, and enjoy while it kicks you butt. I did.

Between the idle talk and angled precepts I sip a clever wine,

Between the idle talk and angled precepts I sip a clever wine,
Getting close to strangers becomes easy with wine and sooty air,

Passing plates to hungry guests, I see the server's shirt tail,
They work on their toes for cash, and they live for smoke breaks,

Hatching ties and drawing lines of conversation is hard when I see pain,
In the tentative eyes of a server-showing mileage on their backs and shoes,

If they wear their hearts anywhere its on a hanger in the back,
Valeting their dreams they check their shirt sleeves at the door,

But dusk dawns a whole new night to gain back their verve and spirit,
To let them claim the dark air for their own justifications, I tip well.

To the peerless set of stars I see,

To the peerless set of stars I see,
I do not pray a mystic plea,
Believing that my tones will give,
An altered view of the way we live

Instead I view you cosmic two
In ways you've shown us to do
Silently giving a calming stare
An aging light I too will bare

unplug

Verb; to stop from operating. the act of doing and/or inventing ways of seeing life that has existed in others realities in new ways. branching out of your usual self and selfishness to the openness and abundant beauty of this wold, without extensions. what does it mean to truly unplug? to un-case the castes cultured in our minds eye. to live without the pressure of an attached life. so there you are unplugged and happy with no responsibility. but that is it. to unplug is easy with no responsibilty. with no other ties except those we choose to link, leaving liberated strings for the wind to play with. where it falls down of corse, is we choose to tie knots of life all over ourselves until we are just a bunch of knots. then instead of spending the day unplugged we spend it mending the knots around are skin and clothes. our vision focuses on conformity or abrations, until we can no longer find excatly were our plugs are. our hands are to busy mending to reach for anything real much less to unplug from our daily waltz on the metropolitan dance floor...

Split Perceptives

A sharpened knife splits our vision in two,
Sending trying times on the perceptive view,
What we can do and what we can dream,
What we can whisper and what we can scream,

The tailored suited man speaks through his eyes,
But he can see only what his money can buy,
The dreamer is spent with his fetters of poverty,
Living by his back and feet, and chances of the lottery,

With acute vigor the stars and strips sway,
The dream as it were has been given away,
It has been taken by cheats, in a more accurate truth,
And money is wasted on the old instead of youth.

In clouded air of manic justice, a dim sun rises in the east,
Casting questions in shadow on the grass cracked concrete.

Looking past the shadows end I see the colors of the world,
Organic blends of hue and glow are blurred by the wind.

An armored wind blown by the exhaust towers of industry,
Sneak into our lungs and we believe their lies in time.

With chemicals they cast a spell and drain our minds of artistry,
What will our kids say to the the mess they have made, or will they even notice.

Lost in Ribbon like Opening of Light

The natural sounds of trees and bees affected our mood of change
Quietly laying and catching our breath, on Spanish quilts of gray
The teary eyes of Sunday love drowned out the trains of thought
We were baited and lost in ribbon like openings of light through trees

Though pull strings of province had stretch used apart-
-flipping our notes of life,
The die casts of Fate-commissioned by Love-had stamped their intentions
-in time-
Our detail logs and work reviews warmed us as they burned
We were baited and lost in ribbon like openings of light through trees

If the Sun sent his light to redress and ease the hidden burdens we keep
We mended and bathed in ribbons of light, on Spanish quilts of gray
The need to speak in scattered tones evaded us this time
We were baited and lost in ribbon like openings of light though trees