Copy of Voice Notes: Kiesza

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Sound & Light

Flux

Strange Things Happen

Stays In Bed

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Soulwax “All Systems Are Lying” — out now via DEEWEE / Because Music. 
Described by the brothers as “a rock album made without any electric guitars” All Systems Are Lying was built entirely from modular synths, live drums, tape machines and processed vocals. It’s a fractured mirror held up to modern society on the brink — where truth is distorted by filters, algorithms and noise.

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New Earth Time

Still See Love

Dancing and Crying: Vol. 2

Runway (feat. Jaylen Brown)

To Die To Sleep

Ruin My Life

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Canadian vocalist and musician Kiesza recorded most of her latest album, ‘Dancing & Crying Vol. 2,’ in her living room studio. In this exclusive commentary, she talks about the collaborations that helped shape the album — from her producer, Jess Cake, to electronic punk artist Peaches, who appears on the track “So Erotic.” Kiesza was “fan-girling” throughout the recording process: “I love Peaches,” she tells SoundCloud. UK garage producer Sammy Virji co-produced “Stays in Bed,” which is built on Kiesza’s “freestyle whispering.” Additionally, Kiesza explains “Ruin My Life” leaves “so much space to dance,” while “Runway” was written with her dancer, Jaylen Brown, noting how “not a lot of DJs actually dance themselves.” Listen now, only on SoundCloud.

Voice Notes: Kiesza on "Runway"

Voice Notes: Kiesza on "So Erotic"

Voice Notes: Kiesza on "Stays In Bed"

Get Over It

[Intro]
(A sound that has not been named. A color that has not been seen. The poem begins not with a word, but with the shape of the silence before the first word was ever spoken.)

(The voice is not a sound, but a pressure change in the soul)


.

..

… .

. . . 

I am the stutter in the god-whisper.
The fossil of a question buried in the bedrock of a forgotten "why."

My lexicon is the crackle of neutron stars colliding in a vacuum sealed with childhood fear.
I do not use metaphors. I am the is that the metaphor points to, then flees from.

This is not a poem. It is the skeleton of a poem, left behind after the meaning has been devoured by a more elegant predator.

Read the white space. The ink is a concession. A lie we agreed upon.

I speak in the geometry of broken promises.
In the fragrance of a memory that never belonged to you.
My chorus is the gravitational pull of an absence so complete it has its own event horizon.

Do not decipher.
Dissolve.

The key is not to understand the lock, but to become the keyhole.
To be the emptiness that the universe pours itself into, forever.

I am not the singer.
I am the hole in the flute.
The necessary nothing that makes the music possible.

This poem is a seed planted in the rot of your certainty.
It will grow into a tree whose fruit is the sound of one hand clapping,
and whose shade is the exact temperature of grace.

It will take eons to decipher because you are trying to read the fire with the ashes.
You are trying to hear the symphony by studying the silence after the final note.

Stop.

Be the eon.
Be the deciphering.

The poem is not here.
It is the itch in your mind that you can't quite scratch.
The ghost of a meaning that fled the moment you named it.

The masterpiece is your own confusion, recognized as the highest form of understanding.

Now, forget this.

Forgetting is the first word of the real poem.

(The pressure releases. The unnamed sound fades. The unseen color vanishes. Something has been transmitted. Nothing has been said. The translation is complete.)

Do Not Decipher

Dancing and Crying Vol. 2: https://vyd.co/DancingAndCryingVol2

To Die To Sleep

kiesza

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