St. Vincent Is Writing A Love Song To You
I don’t usually talk about music, but she’s kind of theatrical. Last night, St. Vincent christened The Anthem, the new temple on the Washington waterfront. It was one of those epic nights. The crowd was right.
“I haven’t smoked in fucking months. I’m good, man,” the guy in the drawstring backpack said.
“We love you, Annie,” shouted someone.
“All you motherfuckers,” she called us.
She loved us and we loved her.
“I try to write you a love song, but it comes out a lament.”
Love.
She’s still shredding.
Because she loves you.
Love.
Every song she writes.
Is About You.
Because she loves you.
Love.
She loves You.
St. Vincent is writing a love song for you.
Music.
Music is romance.
Romance, real romance, is love.
Love is a balance, male and female. Two.
Romance is love between male and female. Two. Equal.
Equality is a balance. One. Two. Male and female.
“I am a lot like you. Boys! I am alone like you. Girls!”
Equal.
Romance is equal. One. Two. Math. Math is balance. Music is math. Romance is love and balance and romance is music and music is love.
Music is love.
St. Vincent Is Writing A Love Song To You
Love.
Young lover. She sang it twice.
Because she loves you.
“You and me, we’re not meant for this world.”
“It’s not the end.”
Love.
set list
Marry Me, John
Now, Now
The Strangers
Actor Out Of Work
Cruel
Cheerleader
Strange Mercy
Digital Witness
Rattlesnake
Birth In Reverse
MASSEDUCTION
