“amazed by the way you held your limbs…”
These are the best opening lyrics of any record I own, period. Seriously, listen and ask yourself if any other words make more sense the next time you're just sitting around and can't stop watching the girl your in love with, seemingly, for no apparent reason.
A heartbreaking swan-song of an album, this is my favorite college radio discovery. I still remember seeing it tucked away in a bin of unopened, refused CD's sitting in the corner of the KSCR office. The title alone charming enough to warrant a spin, and the opening chords accompanied by tender, unassuming strings selling me on its quality within the first thirty seconds.
The vocals are delivered and produced so endearlingly - like someone reading love letters aloud through a short-wave radio - capturing both heartache and loss with plenty of empathy and none of the melodrama.
The album's grown with me over the years. (I can recall first thinking that it would have made a better EP, that the second half wasn't as strong, but like all great records it's made more and more sense over time. The more challenging songs have become as endearing as the polished, and all of it swelling together to create one, elegant consistent medley of melancholy-pop.)
I remember loving it so much that I would intentionally look for extra copies in the dollar-bin at Amoeba Records and purchase them all to send to friends and love ones. The idea that a record this good could go so unnoticed still seems so criminal, so unfair. At 26, with 700 City Breathing records collecting dust in the corner of my bedroom, I can empathize so closely with the fate of this record.
It's managed to nestle its way into making sense in so many areas of my life - both serious and humorous and if records are worth anything, they can be measured only in their ability to connect with you. So, here we are. Take a listen, maybe it'll say something for you as well.