Blame the Symphony

This is a video about life and death and sun and grass and trees and climbing upwards. It's also about marking the places you've been, your territory, saying I was here. I stood. I saw. This is my footprint; this is proof. I made this short film without Sunset Rubdown in mind, and it was only when a friend suggested its suitability during the editing process that I found it worked just perfect for everything I wanted to say. So many moments are strangely synched -- "helicopters overhead", "the sun on my shoes". Some were offended by the urination. In my defense I can only say: Hunt's dead. He does not care. I had to pee very badly. His gravestone felt somehow important. I had the familiar urge to take hold of that moment, to chronicle it, to put it to film with colour and sound and show it to the world.

What induces shivers about Sunset Rubdown is the sudden staccato strumming, that fretful voice, its pained urgency, and lyrics like tales from a storybook. There's this whimsical quality to all the heartbreak.

The following is from the Black Cab sessions, where they kidnap musicians and force them to play music in the back of a cab.

(you go on ahead (black cab session))

And if there are two eyes in my head there are four seasons in a year
And reflections on the water from a burning yellow sphere
And the days add up to weeks add up to months
And add up...
And add up...
And add up...
And add up...
And add up...
And add up... (X infinity)