Thursday, January 29, 2009
When I was a doe-eyed 18-year-old college freshman, I took a job at as a wage-slave at a Miami record store and somehow quickly became involved with one of the more seemingly untouchable of my co-workers -- a 22-year-old grad student. She and I spent quite a few nights hanging out in her dorm room with the lights off and candles lit, getting drunk, talking ridiculous philosophy, and fooling around.
Obviously I could never quite get my head around the idea that I was having sex with what at the time appeared to be a real woman, and typically found myself wandering back to my own place at four in the morning without my feet actually touching the ground. It was, I figured, every young boy's fantasy.
One of my favorite memories of that time wasn't really her, though, so much as her taste in music. She was a huge fan of Dead Can Dance, and would often play the band's stuff during our late-nights spent together -- dusting the entire experience with an ethereal sheen that made me wake up the next morning wondering whether I'd simply dreamed the whole thing.
Since those days, I've kept a place in my heart for Dead Can Dance -- which isn't really difficult, given that they're one of the few truly indescribable acts in modern music. The aural landscape created by Lisa Gerrard and Brendan Perry can only be described as wondrous.
From their 1988 album The Serpent's Egg, here's the extraordinary, evocative video for The Host of Seraphim.