My Prologue To The Embodiment…

It would have been impossible for me to revisit the body of work incarnating the essence of the nature of Vague Souvenir without exposing the spirit I was in before writing or revisiting a single one of the words that defines the album, which is a personal and intimate journey and not some plastic art commodity designed to stimulate some sterile and impotent feelings only destined to feed the unquenchable thirst for recognition and stardom… it’s an imperfect, but true embodiment of a peregrinate prayer I whispered to the silent rill of the wind blow that led me beyond the dawn of desperation to a moment of surrender that doesn’t have anything to do with capitulating… freedom.
 
For me, an “album” reveals itself in little sparks of life… as you go, as you’re allowing your heart to see the colors of the invisible, as your morning stream slowly turns from a fearful high wave type of lifelong blurry vision to an unknown but hopeful invitation to sail away from your own desperate dusk. Misery, as the night, will always feed its own shadows and illusions. But faith, as in every new dawn, awaits the quietest of all confessions to reveal its true redeeming nature. And somehow, when you do confess your long gone faith in absolution and your long lost remembrance of what true peace is about, new words are taking shape and are revealing themselves to your once dreary eyes. New sounds are blooming and arising for your deaf spirit to suddenly hear. Your soul is migrating from an everlasting mourning state of death to a stepping motion outside of your own personal winter make-believes. 

As a song is unfolding its healing honesty, it’s a light at your feet, thus becoming a natural agent stimulating your sight to see through the ending fatalistic reality you have so often abducted your every desired new beginning to. A light, still fragile, but so real that it’s setting you free from your own settled abandonments and acknowledged surrenders, shining as you thought you were only a cursed case of dreadful surviving waste of expectations, left-behind only to humiliatingly hold onto other people’s impaled neon flared dreams. A light, weak as a halo, but so truthfully radiating that you realize that contrary to all the lies you heard so many times, you do not doubt their nature anymore, a redeeming communion is only awaiting an avowal murmur for freedom to be consumed in a graceful springtime of forgiveness; forgiving, letting go and liberty…
 
It took me 5 years to write Vague Souvenir, but in so many ways, the truth is that it took me a lifelong journey to believe in any possible absolution for my broken heart, to embrace the redeeming power of a mumbling whisper for love…   

– Alex