Music Review

Twin View
by Sage Kolodziejski
I'm sitting, looking out two windows from my new bed. Everything is blurry white from the light pouring in, bouncing off the dark wood floors and stark white walls. A desk, a chair, a bed make up the features of my new home. The jet lag feels more like weed than I remember. Still, I'm worried about my decision to move and need to do something to calm down. In this place, like others before it, I turn on Florist. 

I never listened to music and thought “I need to learn this, play it.” In my new space, accordingly named The White Room, I thought maybe my fantasy of moving to LA, doing ecstasy regularly, and looking like Liz Lee was possible. This was a terrible idea, which I knew even when constructing it. The opening chords of Florist's "White Light Doorway" echo off the walls and for the first time I think maybe my dream is to play music in LA with people like Liz Lee, but not go so hard. No. it's still a terrible idea. Nothing, nothing's a good idea. I felt cold in the middle of a sunny summer afternoon. The band's vocalist and composer Emily Sprague lulls me into a hazy sleep. 

Awake, I listen again. 'White light doorway, here I am in the flesh again' and like a duckling I follow the lines perfectly as I compare the lyrics to my journey to the West Coast. It's scary to stare blankly at twin windows, light glaring bright while 'please come quick i've stuck my head in the banister again' plays. The room, the house all hold memories from last July. But I'm not a house guest anymore and living here is a mistake. One I'm sure I cannot make right. So the line repeats and when 'but I just wanted to know what it would feel like' hits, it is too close, so instead of fear there's sadness. 

Choosing the opposite of sadness isn't happiness. It's comfort. At least for me and Emily, comfort was more important than being happy when dealing with our own accidents. A few years ago Emily was in a bike wreck that left her with a broken neck and lost sensation in her right arm. To do what she loves, she needed normal-ness, comfortableness to play. Her music confronts life and death, joy and fear like their ordinary, everyday stakes. In "White Light Doorway" there is a childlike plea for help matched with hallowed, ghostly vocals. Like somebody from beyond calling out to anyone who will hear. 

My accident was falling for someone who wouldn't catch me unless I showed her the money up front. The gravity of Emily's healing was so visceral, I was embarrassed to compare our experiences until now. The truth is somebody called out to me in "The White Room." A voice from some other time whispers 'this isn't what you want, leave.' When I wanted to ignore it, Florist reminded me it's okay to listen. 
Florist can also be heard at their band camp website.

Sage Kolodziejski

  1. Sage is an artist and writer living in the surrounds of Atlanta.
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