Sara the story-teller is clearer here than ever, and the delivery she has used is spot on. Her story of a girl named Cassiopeia begins, in the manner of Star Wars, “a long, long time ago.” And, not surprisingly, it is “in a galaxy far, far away”–only if the reader interjects with the knowledge of real-life constellation, Cassiopeia (which may also explain the light-years-ago age of the story). Cassiopeia, of a starlight with potential to create supernovas (whether in a literal or abstract sense is joyfully ambiguous), has noticed another bright star far, far away. She wishes heartfully that they would meet and start something (note: violence and destruction, the stuff of supernovas, are intriguingly rich with figures about progress). Her fantasies please her, so the accompanying desperation and tragedies of reality lead to inner turmoil. And then, she meets someone. Who, you ask? It’s not revealed, and this allows for several interpretations. Is it the heartbreaker or someone new? Is it real or part of her imagination? The truth is up in the air–or if you will, up in space.
My most perceived part of her story is the journey from audio to visual, which is given the apposite atmospheres (e.g. light stream to heavy cream). There is also the context to be identified, which I’d say is a series of tracks about self-discovery of “the blessed unrest” Sara speaks of. It seems to be what Sara fantasizes about, partly because of the attention of the end of the lines in the chorus to the ‘I’ syllable and partly because the idea is a happy ending for people aiming to break apart one day, like a supernova growing up (or blowing up) to be stardust. This falls in line with the greater reality of human biology.
“Cassiopeia” is my favorite song on this album.
Sara the story-teller is clearer here than ever, and the delivery she has used is spot on. Her story of a girl named Cassiopeia begins, in the manner of Star Wars, “a long, long time ago.” And, not surprisingly, it is “in a galaxy far, far away”–only if the reader interjects with the knowledge of real-life constellation, Cassiopeia (which may also explain the light-years-ago age of the story). Cassiopeia, of a starlight with potential to create supernovas (whether in a literal or abstract sense is joyfully ambiguous), has noticed another bright star far, far away. She wishes heartfully that they would meet and start something (note: violence and destruction, the stuff of supernovas, are intriguingly rich with figures about progress). Her fantasies please her, so the accompanying desperation and tragedies of reality lead to inner turmoil. And then, she meets someone. Who, you ask? It’s not revealed, and this allows for several interpretations. Is it the heartbreaker or someone new? Is it real or part of her imagination? The truth is up in the air–or if you will, up in space.
My most perceived part of her story is the journey from audio to visual, which is given the apposite atmospheres (e.g. light stream to heavy cream). There is also the context to be identified, which I’d say is a series of tracks about self-discovery of “the blessed unrest” Sara speaks of. It seems to be what Sara fantasizes about, partly because of the attention of the end of the lines in the chorus to the ‘I’ syllable and partly because the idea is a happy ending for people aiming to break apart one day, like a supernova growing up (or blowing up) to be stardust. This falls in line with the greater reality of human biology.
It’s art.