"the scent of you baby / it lingers behind / makes me remember / a happier time / I may be naïve / but I do believe / there will be a time / for you and for me..."
The torchy, scintillating snap, crackle and pop of "La Petite Mort" by Gothenburg, Sweden's art pop outfit SYND feels like bits of glam, glitter lipstick, hubba hubba Elvis and Kraftwerk all rolled up into one sultry come-on. But it's not all about sex, although la petite mort translates to "little death" or how that veiled definition of an orgasm or post orgasm (as in losing oneself / loss of consciousness) seemingly goes all the way back to 1882. But no, the sensibility here is not only lust but love without admitting it, at least, some of the lyrics seem to elude to that kind of mental juggling (I think). Listening and I can't help but think about that John Travolta / Uma Thurman dance at Jack Rabbit Slim's in Pulp Fiction and lips on thighs (?) and how if you want an obtuse sex appeal in a song, especially a post or proto punk song, you better get a sax player.
LINER NOTES:
Suicideesque moaning banger about loss and love
Have fun people. Man, I dig that vintage organ.
-Robb Donker Curtius
THE FACTS AS WE KNOW THEM
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClvdFHLKwkgtxsyiXy3MHhA
https://synd.bandcamp.com/
https://www.instagram.com/synd_band/
https://www.facebook.com/sssssynd
Gothenburg-based art pop band ✨
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