#bon iver & st vincent
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godindepression · 6 months ago
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Current Top 100 Albums!!!
i didn't went hard on this one when it comes to position, it suggest some preferences but it's actually hard to tell when it comes to actual accurancy regarding my current opinion on these amazing pieces.
I'm not that much of a hardcore scrobbler or music listener in general, but i hope you find my taste at least interesting!!.
i miss topsters 2 tbh, but its fine, taking life as it comes.
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decemberblue · 1 year ago
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This atmosphere… 
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angelnumber27 · 10 months ago
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fiovske · 10 months ago
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for a series that is so bad overall, the twilight saga had an absolutely banging soundtrack
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thyion · 3 months ago
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one of the songs of all time
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opalsiren · 2 months ago
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flawless-imperfections · 1 year ago
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thegamingcatmom · 5 months ago
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If yknow...
*listens to Rosyln by Bon Iver & St. Vincent*
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Yknow.
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personalartchive · 10 months ago
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27/08/2023
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When'd this just become a mortal home?
...
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everdeenxmellark · 2 years ago
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tw: suicide mention
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“sea and the rock below,
cocked to the undertow.
bones, blood and teeth erode,
they will be crashing low.
wings wouldn't help you.
wings wouldn't help you down.
down towards the ground,
gravity smiled.”
- roslyn; bon iver, st. vincent
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songspiral · 2 years ago
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"Roslyn" by Bon Iver & St. Vincent
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recklessandyoung · 2 years ago
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Rosyln by Bon Iver and St Vincent plays at 4:00 AM in the morning
*crickets*
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a-contemplative-soul · 8 days ago
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I don't know why but this song makes me remember about people that used to be in my life and now are strangers, also it reminds me of vacations and trips I made in the past that just became memories, it's indeed a song that have a very nostalgic feeling, even though the lyrics are not exactly about it. Moreover, I have noticed folk songs are able to bring a certain type of feeling that other styles rarely can bring, it's a very unique feeling, it seems like the simple and ambient aesthetic of the genre has a sort of contemplative twist, almost in a spiritual way.
Song: Roslyn
Artist: Bon Iver & St. Vincent
Year: 2009
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acteur-dramatique · 25 days ago
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In the Quiet Hours, Under Rosyln's Spell
I sit alone,
bathed in the blue light of my screen,
the office empty but for my thoughts,
as I scroll through social media,
through the endless feeds of other lives
flickering past like specters.
I stumble on my music library,
a familiar place to seek comfort,
and I put on Rosyln,
Bon Iver and St. Vincent's voices
slipping into the quiet like a haunting,
filling the room with echoes
of longing I can't shake.
The first lines drift in --
"Up with your turret
Aren't we just terrified?"
And I feel it, the ache of it,
the worry I keep hidden behind stone walls,
screened behind pleasantries and smiles,
my own turret where I hold my secrets close,
my fear tucked away
where no one will ever find it,
especially not him.
Kyle.
He floats into my mind,
unbidden, like a whisper in the dark,
the man whose friendship I hold
like a fragile glass,
too precious to break,
too dangerous to tip.
I replay our conversations,
our laughter woven into quiet moments,
the warmth of his gaze,
the way his hand lingers a second longer than necessary,
a friendship that means the world to me
because I have so few male friends,
and even fewer that makes me feel seen,
that make me feel safe.
But beneath it all, there's this other thing,
this tightrope I tread alone,
the feelings I hide,
a heartbeat that skips and stumbles
whenever he is near.
The song deepens, the lyrics seep in --
"Sea and rock below
Cocked to the undertow,"
and I feel the pull,
the weight of an unspoken gravity,
a draw that drags me down,
bones and blood eroding
under the tide of yearning I dare not speak.
Tomorrow, I will see him in clinic,
and the thoughts bring a flutter to my chest,
a quiet thrill to behold his face,
that perfect symmetry,
the hint of stubble that roughens his jaw,
his brown hair carefully coiffed,
his smile a golden boy's charm,
but with a kindness that makes it real.
His body, sculpted from years of discipline,
thighs and calves honed on the baseball field,
strong yet soft in his Midwestern way,
a sensibility that grounds him,
a steadiness I admire,
a secretly, hopelessly, adore.
The song reaches its final refrain --
"You barely are blinking
Wagging your face around
When'd this just become a mortal home?"
and I am pierced,
hot needles threading through my chest
as the words settle into my heart.
The filing, both blessed and burdened,
fills me up,
and I wonder when friendship
became something to tread so carefully,
when my heart became a mortal home
for a love that must remain hidden.
Tears gather, unbidden,
hot streaks trailing down my cheeks --
happy tears for the closeness we share,
for the laughter and the warmth,
and sad tears for what cannot be,
for a love that waits in silence,
knowing it will go unreturned.
The song fades into quiet,
and I am left with the stillness,
holding these feelings close,
like secrets buried under earth and bone.
Tomorrow, I'll smile, I'll laugh,
I'll walk the line between friendship and longing,
and he will never know
the gravity of this quiet ache,
the joy and sorrow bound so tightly within me,
a song that ends in silence,
a love that never speaks its name.
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my-bookmark-is-a-flower · 1 year ago
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When'd this just become a mortal home?
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