“Finally, finally die / Finally, finally die / Finally, finally die”
Who: Nat Ćmiel
What: Ambient Pop, Art Pop, Electropop, About 11:30 PM
Where: Singapore, London
Why: Yeule waits, crouched on the floor and sinking into an overexposed black and white space. I’m not entirely sure what for, and her emaciated gaze doesn’t seem pointed towards anything in particular, except whatever direction her neck just happened to naturally rest I guess. That cover art for “Pocky Boy” seems to stare at you by the simple virtue of its strangeness. Nothing about it seems to evoke the world of the song, except in the literal space of a girl losing touch with reality amidst dreams and visions. In the metaphorical and musical space, the song is actually full of a sort of dead-hearted-warmth and emotional richness, not this bleakness and destitution. The post-death longing, the subtle escape of the ghostly chant, “Finally finally die, finally finally die, finally finally die…”, it’s bliss. And I’m pretty sure that this image isn’t.
Nor do I much care for the cover that the unaffiliated YouTube uploader “David Dean Burkhart” chose either. The sparkly-eyed and longing Yeule seems too benign for something that feels like it encompasses an entire life.
See, “Pocky Boy” most deeply reminds me of “Pyramid Song”, a metaphor I don’t take very lightly (and not too seriously either really). Sure the sonic qualities are quite different, and the singing style isn’t quite so fatalistic and dramatic, but there’s a quality there, an important one. “Pyramids Song” and “Pocky Boy” are songs about death, but not ones about the literalness of it, or even the nihilism of it.
I often think about this one specific interpretation of Jewish scripture on life after death, not for any particular reason really, other than that it speaks to me in a strange way. I’d hardly call myself a member of the Jewish faith, but this interpretation, its about a death without heaven or hell, a death where your consciousness simply gives into the greater being. To return to god in all aspects, no more identity or person. To rejoin your ancestors and family in the most abstract way conceivable. Not some hippy talk of energies or rebirth, but of a true and complete succumbing. I think about Thom singing about all his former lovers riding that little rowboat into the end together, and of Yeule’s character following the spirits in her visions to oblivion. They are about death as a moment of communion. Of loss and of a new life that may be sadder than this one is. A journey that you take willingly in spite of its cost.
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