Word: melds
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...everyone eventually realizes that, at their core, they are profoundly, horribly, the same. "Inside us there is something that has no name, that something is what we are," one inmate claims with horror. Saramago's use of dialogue mirrors this loss of individuality. The words of the blind meld together without paragraphs, quotation marks or periods. Separated only by commas, the statements of the blind become a confused mass of speech. Language loses its personal nature and the horror of the situation melds into one voice, one breath, one cry of profound despair...
...songs Richman wrote and performed during the early '70s are astonishing; they meld the sound of his beloved Velvet Underground and the Stooges with the typical teen rock concerns of girls, driving and insecurity, shot through with an unnerving simplicity and directness like nothing else in rock then or now. Also distinctive is Richman's voice, which I hesitate to describe as nasal and monotone, because it is far more appealing than that...
...teacher, he began acting in a third-grade production of Julius Caesar and knew he had found his calling. Two years later, he wrote his first poem, influenced by early "big word" rapper T La Rock. But it wasn't until grad school that he attempted to meld his dramatic training with spoken-word performances. Kicking around the improv poetry circuit in Manhattan, he met Levin and landed the main role in Levin's loosely scripted, no-budget feature about victims of unjust drug laws...
...high synth strings. Doughty enters with a uncharacteristically melancholy and amazingly seductive voice to sing about suffocating love. As the line "like waves in which you drown me shouting, waves in which you drown me shouting" repeats almost endlessly, the waves of bass and Doughty's hypnotic voice meld into a virtually indistinguishable pulse of sound...
Because Soul Coughing is so elegantly able to meld beats to words, the only places on the album where Soul Coughing obviously falters are the few moments where the music and language do not quite fit together. Occasionally, the lyrics get a little caught up in exorbitant verbosity and leave the music stumbling behind. "St. Louise is Listening" (a song as close to garage rock as Soul Coughing gets) and "Maybe I'll Come Down" (a bland ballad that strains Doughty's voice and listener's patience) are two songs that should have remained poems. In both, a surplus...