Marc Almond

Have you ever listened to Marc Almond? Really listened. If you have, then I can talk to you about him, and his music, and the universe.

He is a force of nature, unruly and wild, tender, soft, forgiving and unforgiving. He gives death a sweet face, and love a face of danger. Everytime he sings he dies and born again, and the words of his songs are like daggers studded with pearls and red-blood rubies. An Emrlad from Lucifer's forehead fell on his lips and turned into pure diamond. Lullabies and death threats, forlorn love and beastly sex, forgotten times and neverforgotten feelings turn all into perfect melodies for your lost soul. If a man can talk this way, and sing this way, can you be petty about his faults? Because, the very same are the source of this never-ending stream of energy that flows from his lips to your ears, hearts and the lost routes of your minds. Marc will tell you like it is, and more. Can you take it? Truth is the most bitter medicine of all, oh, but how it cures you. You can listen to the melodius sounds and to the perfect voice, all lust, sweetness and anger. But the words are the true key and music is the passage. Every word that Marc wrote was payed in hell, but the angels helped him write it. Pain is the only way you can find bliss and treasure it, and Marc knows it only too well. He is an outcast of his own free will, and nothing can or could change him. Made from different material than most people, his chemistry is different, and rules of this down-to-earth world don't apply. Almond is also a lacmus-test for people. Some see him and don't want to listen to his music because he counts. He is not someone you can listen to and forget. Feelings and memories, passions and fears, sorrows and regrets are all stired by his poems and music. You enter the world of your dreams. And things change, fall into a different place - a better place. You know then that you are not alone in your loony, lonesome world. The loon in Marc is waving you hello. It's not shameful to be what you really are. It's hard, but it's the only way you can survive this valley of tears we call home, because we know of no other. Where is home? Try and find it, Marc will help you, and so will all the outcast, laughed-at poets. Their strainght lies in the heart-stabbing words the world sends them. So does yours. If you survive that, where are the limits? You tell me.

Can you?