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Rhye’s single, The Fall, has become one of my favourite songs over the last few months. From the hypnotic entry of the piano, to Mike Milosh’s breathy falsetto which seduces you to breathlessness, the song is a sonic portrayal of love lost (or about to be lost) and the intimate, if not self-confessed, begging and bargaining we make to claim and reclaim it.

Make love to me
One more time
Before you go away
Why can’t you stay?

Why can’t you stay? It’s the question that is so bare, so simple, and so naive which poses the greatest difficulty. We’ve all gone through this frustration. We’ve all wondered why the people we love slipped away. Most of the wondering, of course, came as a consequence of emotional blindness – heartbroken men and women aren’t always blessed with logic and clarity. But why can’t they stay? Why can “we” not suffice?

The Fall’s music video is breathtakingly beautiful too. While the YouTube description suggests a “grass is greener” narrative with the man yearning for the company of a younger woman, I am more inclined to the idea it’s a story of a man waxing nostalgic. The man’s wife has grown up. Gone is the reckless, fearless, shameless beauty of youth and her accessories. Gone is the fun. Gone is what electrified him in the first place. The man recalls this past. Milosh coos.

Don’t run away,
Don’t slip away, my dear

Quite frankly, it’s a blissful moment of music in contrast with the tragic embodiment of the lyrics.

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