Special Edition: “Colouring The Streets”

It’s a Song of the Week! I am so excited to present to you this brand new music-centered feature on the show. Two Years Ago we had a blast (my word) listening to 300 albums and discussing them together. Ever since I have known that we were going to get back to holding space to talk specifically about music on the pod, regularly. And just about a year after we started that massive undertaking, the time is now!! So instead of album after album, we’re going to talk about ONE SONG AT A TIME. - This week’s FIFTY-SECOND installment song is from one of my favorite Artists: POND And is called “Colouring The Streets.” It does not feature on any of their albums, but instead can be found on the soundtrack for the Australian documentary film: Spirit Of Akasha You can listen to the album version of the song here: https://youtu.be/f65K7mGR0k4?s... And you can watch the rest of the Falzon interview here: https://youtu.be/Cc78nmC6Z40?s... And if you’d really like to see the film, check out access to the The Surf Network if you can. It’s a real thing! Plus you can almost always grab a preview on my IG @whereschloe; it’s up on the profile. [SEE BELOW FOR THE POEM] - There is no hierarchy; these songs are going to be in basically a random order, chosen for reasons that I’ll most likely expound upon within the episode. Along with an array of background, inspirations, time frame, album order, cultural context, related themes, personal experiences, etc. Any genre artist decade that I would listen to is up for grabs and who’s to know what will be next and why? ;) Remember your favorites. Discover something new. One song of the week at a time for however long works. I’m ELATED that you’re along for the ride, C - PS: Here’s Poetry Time (again)- Those Days by Mary Oliver When I think of her I think of the long summer days she lay in the sun, how she loved the sun, how we spread our blanket, and friends came, and the dogs played, and then I would get restless and get up and go off to the woods and the fields, and the afternoon would soften gradually and finally I would come home, through the long shadows, and into the house where she would be my glorious welcoming, tan and hungry and ready to tell the hurtless gossips of the day and how I listened leisurely while I put around the room flowers in jars of water— daisies, butter-and-eggs, and everlasting — until like our lives they trembled and shimmered everywhere.