I’m snowed into a house that isn’t my home today. It’s quite exciting. The internet is cranky (hence this curtailed and belated post), the only car here won’t start, it’s minus 11 outside, but inside it’s disorientatingly warm. There’s a log fire. A log fire!
These kind of wintry situations are exciting for all manner of reasons (I’m wondering if, with all this snow and time on my hands, I can recreate some of the headier moments from Die Hard) but chiefly, it’s a time for embracing cosiness.
Tristen‘s is ideal music for such times. Her songs are hearty, sweet, warm and loving. Oh, and about drugs.
Not all of Tristen‘s lovely songs are about drugs. But Baby Drugs is, and it’s a dazzling example of a heart-breaking voice piercing hearts, minds and preconceptions all in one gleaming, kindly thrust.
Some voices are meant to sing songs that lament and caress simultaneously, and Tristen’s is about as glossy, honeyed and sparkling as you could ever wish for. And if you’re stuck inside, in the snow, in a heat haze, you might even fall in dewy-eyed love.