They’ll tell you this without waiting for you to ask – glance at the Facebook profile of any Music PR’s work experience assistant, and allow the proclamations wash over your dazzled eyes.
“I LOVE music,” it’ll say. “Music is my life,” it’ll babble on. “Life without music wouldn’t be worth living,” they hyperbolise.
This may all sound very grand and vital, but actually, it’s the equivalent of the dullards who write “I enjoy having fun” in the ‘Likes’ column of a dating website.
Because here’s the rub: everyone enjoys, loves, craves music. Music is a basic, deep-seated, brain-tickler and the enjoyment of it is precisely what it is to be human. Hell, even dogs like music.
So when these people tell you such things, take them with a pinch of salt. What they really love is being associated with the music industry – the power, the organisation of events, the don’t-disturb-me-I’m-so-busy melodrama of it all.
If they really loved music more than anything else, they’d be making music, not yapping about it. Pandreas loves music. I can tell because he’s made some in his bedroom. And it’s really good.
Pandreas is Norwegian, and thus the sense of melody embedded within Sirkel Sag is as innate as you’d expect.
Sirkel Sag is cobbled together out of sound-snippets and samples, and has the endearingly rough-and-ready feel of a collage: occasionally all the slivers of noise threaten to jog out of sync, and then they all whip back into shape again and bloom into a glorious chorus.
The song drips with love and care and affection for life, for the world, for music itself. Ignore what you’re told: this is what loving music sounds like.