Song For Zula – Phosphorescent
Music can impose order on a feeling, channel it into a narrow band. It can harness a feeling, tame it. Or it can impose disjunctures, rip apart the seemingly clear. It can mislead by providing a tonal counterpoint to lyrics that would read entirely differently on the page. It can joke, convey a sense of irony. Or it can amplify, turning the simple and straightforward into a truth so deep it defies comprehension.
All of this is what makes it possible for such short pieces of art to convey so much. And it’s also why music demands repetition so much more than any other art form. Think of how many times you’ve listened to your favorite songs compared to the times you return to other favorite cultural items. I’m confident, for example, that I’ve spent more time in my life listening to “Hey Jude” than I have reading Anna Karenina. And that’s kind of crazy when you think about it, given the depth and complexity of Anna K and the relative simplicity of the song. And yet, every time I hear “Hey Jude, don’t make it bad…” I am once again transfixed. Those background aaaaaahs somehow say as much to me as any thousand words ever could.
I say all of this as way of introduction to “Song for Zula.” It is one of the most astonishing songs I have heard in a very long time, but every effort I’ve made to explain precisely why has simply slipped away from me. So I implore you to simply listen, drink in the allegories of love and death and pain and hope and rage and see what they mean for you. Stand with him out on that desert plain tonight, listen to the low synths, the soaring strings, the dusty voice. I don’t know what it will mean for you. But I am confident that you will not regret the experience.
The album is called Muchacho – and it’s also well worth your time.