Word: ballad
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...vocals. Yet, this ability doesn’t fully compensate for the shallow character of the lyrics, which rely almost exclusively on repetitive themes of love, death, obsession, and the occasional depression-induced suicide. The songs are morbid at best, and at their worst, such as in the slow ballad “Nothing To Give,” deathly boring. Space age glittery synth beats overwhelm straining vocals, but fail to mask what is clearly a sub-par rendition of Cure-esque mope-rock.McVeigh often harps on simplified clichés about the inextricable link between love and death, though...
...With its message of peace and reconciliation, the song is an unlikely choice so soon after Israel's deadly war in Gaza. But the subject matter is not the only thing remarkable about the ballad - so too are its composers and performers, Mira Awad and Noa. Awad is a Christian Arab Israeli, and her pairing with the Jewish Noa marks the first time an Arab has been chosen to sing for Israel in the most global of music events. (See pictures of heartbreak in the Middle East...
...than Vetiver’s previous recordings. The major label seems to serve Cabic well, and he takes advantage of this to expand the instrumentation and variety of his songs. The album starts off with the aptly titled “Rolling Sea,” a sensitive fingerpicked ballad, decorated with piano and steel guitar, that would fit in on any previous Vetiver record. This is followed by “Sister,” a gentle appeal to a sibling “too young to be treated badly, too bored to be told...
...just handed it to me”—with his whole range of vocal contortions. Morrissey’s pseudo-intellectual musings are also somehow unbecoming of so mature an individual. “It’s Not Your Birthday Anymore,” a slow ballad that recounts the harsh words of a jaded man to his soon-to-be-discarded lover (“It’s not your birthday anymore / There’s no need to be kind to you”), comes off as juvenile and pitiless...
...milk. It seems he’s too busy scowling to put any effort into his vengeance. The violent sounds of this tempestuous break up—glass shattering, shrieks of rage, car alarms—are drowned out by the tepid tune of a rather weak pop ballad. Everything happens in slow motion; the events taking place within the dim interior of Ciara and Enrique’s fictive home seem as though they were transpiring underwater. Objects don’t fall, they float through the air and shatter delicately against the floor. You begin to wonder what...