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Even with words and music I struggle to find balance. Once a string of words are committed to paper one can still alter meaning by changing the order or throwing in a colon or semi colon just for shits and giggles. I recall writing while so damn angry and as I did so I realised I enjoyed the sounds of words colliding into each other more than I did the anger I needed to vent. In an instant the rage was gone and in its stead was the deliciousness of wordplay, slipping and slithering down my throat, begging for one more word, one more phrase…

The same with music. It is easier creating a fictional story (as I did in the song Die Today or Guns on the Table for eg.), and striving to understand the character’s truest motivation. When I try to puzzle together my own feelings, all that matters are the emotions that threaten to strangle me with their magnetic pull. The songs I find trickeliest are those where I try to redeem others; portraying their highest ideals instead of seeing them as they are. So horribly human and flawed. I don’t care if even my mother says I am naive, I would rather see the best in people.

‘Oh please Auriol, you are a Scorpio through and through. You cut people down to size with the songs you write.’ I don’t mean to, honestly. Yet, tell me, what else can I do with my pain or anger but create music? In the last 10 years I have written only two angry songs. And dammit, I have standards! If I am going to write a song it will be searingly beautiful, as all I am searching for is truth, theirs, mine. At times the songs written are so beautiful in fact that those who ‘hurt’ me have no choice but to listen, and those who hear the music have no choice but to sway their bodies in agreement!  Dammit, perhaps I am just an evil character after all…

Whenever I write an album I ask only one question: how do I want the person who listens to feel? What are the emotions I want to leave them with? Regarding the new album….I want to give….awe, beauty and a healthy dose of injustice to top it off. Oh, and love. Not only a love filled with sharp edges and old wounds that keep leaking through one’s clothing. A love that is  fragile and wondrous in its honesty…as that is what I experienced for the first time in years. And it is a gift I want to remind people of.

That is all I can do for now. Give small reminders to others, and as I do…remind myself.

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