PopText 2007 (Part Two)

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Stolen Car – Carina Round

Temptation—I give up the fight tonight. My body is an open mouth.”

Carina came true for me this year, taking her raw ache and crafting it into something controlled and beautiful. That’s not to say she’s stripped away any of the wild insistence, that discordant surge, no, that still rattles and cries full of furious lust. But here, at last, she’s reined back; tugging every messy impulse into some semblance of structure. And oh, how radiant she is for it: hot sun flooding the tiny room instead of dispersing into a distant horizon.

It’s no secret that I adore a shape to things; arcs swooping, neatly-built narratives—melodies are wasted in chaos, less than the sum of their parts for all the confusion, the debris. I remember watching Carina perform ‘Into My Blood’ to an empty room, what seems like a lifetime ago. She took that tiny stage, took us all and unleashed her fury, slamming bitter shards of stardust into our lungs; cutting us from the inside. But as much as I was enchanted, I never listened to the song again: it was too harsh, too difficult to set loose on my already-bloody heart—a taste of destruction, a dangerous path.

But here she is again; still aching, still messy, still full of everything I edge around, only this time pulled tight and fierce and all the more tempting for it. You treated my body like a stolen car. And we feel it. Dark roads, heart-kick speed, recklessness setting our synapses alight. The music is muddy and midnight hoarse, but above all else, it’s immersed in need—the entire album shivers with longing, those harsh chords kept under guard and let free only once you’re swooning, too far gone.


Whisper it on the outward breath, and feel the space it leaves.

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