It seemed all too fitting that the Shout Out Louds would release Optica while I was here --
For years, I dreamt about what adventures in Europe would sound like, look like, feel like, smell like, be like. And for years, the Shout Out Louds informed my imagination about what it could be like to get drunk at a music hall in Switzerland or how the smoke from Belgian cigarettes would dance along the highway or how the morning smells in the French countryside while friends are still warm in their beds.
I live in Brussels now, but not for much longer.
One of the best aspects of everyday life here is that people will say things in English that you've never heard, some combination of words that makes perfect sense in their native tongue but poetically refreshing in your own. It'll sound odd (for sure), but simultaneously filled with some sort of sincere gorgeousness:
Just two men sharing a coffee-- nothing more.
I will be taking flesh for dinner tonight, I think.
Please. Please. Thank you, well. Thank you, well.
When I listen to the Shout Out Louds album Optica, this is what I think about: their lyrical phrasing, their whimsical ballads, their "lets-get-lost-on-a-getaway" tone, the sincerity of sound.
here, my apartment is small. I live in Asia Town. On our small street, a drunkard finds himself crooning at the moon. When the snow traces down on Belgium, I'm drawing at night. I've always worked best at night. The Shout Out Louds are on. I'm living somewhere I shouldn't be, and this is very pleasant.
Micah
Micah
