The Traditionalist :: "I Know My Ocean"

I seem to be locked in a series of conversations where I can't fully express myself. Perhaps, it is our PR-driven culture. Sitting at the bar at Bowery the other night, a girl named Copper (you can't make this up) offered, somewhat seriously, to help recreate a friend's personal brand. She meant well and he, politely, didn't reject this proposal. But it was a revealing moment. We don't have interactions anymore - we just direct questions to our press room. There was a time when we were reckless in our endangerment. There was a time when we were honest; when hurt hurt and joy was joyful. We used to feel feelings. Now, we just manage the message.

The Traditionalist, not just for their reactionary name, step into this void with something approaching an attitude. They make just shy of alt-country, folk-rock. On "I Know My Ocean," the instruments are well-recorded and pop out in their own moment before filtering back into the momentum of a moving, deeply textured arrangement. It's shabby while being put-together.

More importantly, the lyrics deal with hurt and declaration. Even the opening line, and title, "I know my ocean" seems an attempt to quantify and state clearly. It is no coincidence that most of the couplets begin with the prefix: "I know ..." The hammer is in the second verse, with rapid-fire delivery: "I know a promise/and I know how to take my time/and I know how to recreate a moment without faking that I'm fine/ just for you." You might have to slide the song back to listen to it twice. But it's all there. In fact, underneath the urgent piano, you'll find the hope that only heartbreak can bring; an honesty built on personal sacrifice.

So let the hurt sting and let the joy feel good. And when things are the hardest to say, it's usually the best time to say them.

Listen :: The Traditionalist - "I Know My Ocean"

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