Monolith Cocktail - BRC LP

Blue Rose Code  ‘And Lo! The Bird Is On The Wing’

When you have a mountain to climb and wish to summon the purest of traits, lift up your head, look beyond, for hope, for resurrection, for love. The knight is brilliant under his armor because he hides what nobody must see. Like the man who stays up till dusk with a solitary head full of details and memories of hardship lived, cold as one can be, shivering behind the curtains of glory, there is the look of him, lingering. Fretting off despair, let him be but don’t let him be, alone. That clay has dried, and a shape, rose. Blue. It is peace, brought to your heart only, with these tracks. Grind the dust off, of everything; but strength, let it prevail.

Now lays the space of being, lightness things of all in front of you. It is those moments that you shall live, the hardest of all. There is that big embrace, now, the album where, no tyrant, no truant, no empty shells, no killers, no perjurers, no modern fabulists, no fear, peeks through. With Ross Wilson wearing his heart on his sleeves, it is us who become the wounded.

After the torment, time has come to tackle the toughest, the invisible details of life, unspoken tiny moments as small as drops of thoughts, the biggest things of life, too, separation, love, broken bones, the pain that comes and goes, still, the lightest things of all to fend off are the most difficult to bare. That big wide space to conquer, and if it wasn’t for the little ghosts that covers the ground discretely, all our tombs and shadows of the dark, regrets, mistakes, all the experiences that makes us, the ones we mourn, the ones we know, the ones we think we know, the melancholic glimmer of those who fall in front of us, for us or for themselves, covered in that white dust, particle of existence, death, treason, silliness, bullets, injustice, rebirth, if it wasn’t for them, it would be for that moment of peace in the name of all of them. And Lo! The Bird Is On The Wing offers that truce.

Yet again the power of Ross Wilson, is to be honest, personal, approachable, close to the silent whisper of your heart, the dark anguish that sprouts out of nothing, and the one that comes when no one is watching, the passionate cry alone, in the twilight, in the silence of an empty stage; him, the actor and the spectator, performs amid the barren seats, rehearsing the last phrase, the love declaration. To us all…if you don’t give up Ross, we won’t either.

Words: Ayfer Simms

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