There is an authenticity in music that I cannot often find in other fine arts. It is a complete truth that other people may find in other things, I guess. It is a whole authenticity that makes me smile, uninterested of the rest of the world. Music gives me an enlightened contentment that completes me. Music reveals all the intensity I hunger for, but which I so rarely find.
I do not think I could keep myself permanently in this elated state of intensity. It would be too overwhelming. This state gives away and withdraws an energy I do not possess and cannot conjure. I can only benefit from it in these special moments. These moments of authenticy, of truth. These moments in which I know there is something more. Moments in which I recognise there is something that pleases me in such a full and absolute manner and it frightens me tremendously knowing I can lose it.
Damien Rice did this to me today. And how can I ever thank him? The music he writes, undoubtedly not for me, unaware of me, gives me exactly what I look for. So, I do want to voice my gratefulness.
Damien, thank you for writing tunes; for rediscovering yourself into this new album. Thank you for the authenticity, for all the truth. Thank you for helping me being at the top of the rabbit’s hair, no longer indifferent to what is more important in life, to the hunger of searching, to the quest of asking. Thank you for reminding me that art is so much more important than what I do. Albeit sad, this is so damn important. It gives me the only hope I can ever achieve without deceiving me. The only way out I want.
So, yes, I think what I want to tell you is: thank you for reminding me of my way out.
Damien, Rice, The greatest bastard, from My Favourite Faded Fantasy, 2014