heartbroke audio: 658 by Emily Kokal
I heard this song for the first time in my apartment on Patterson Street, some years ago. I was living with the guy it was written about. Few songs knock me sideways like this one does – it bleeds with vulnerability and hurt. I get to thinking about all kinds of things: true love gone awry; a sense that time will stop and leave you feeling this feeling forever; that bittersweetness of sharing so, so many beautiful instances with someone who will be forever different from this moment forward. Yet, it still gives me a sense of hope. Emily‘s angelic voice counterpoints the otherwise depressing undertones of the song, leaving the listener feeling somehow validated by the pain. As really good art should be, it’s a slice of life. It hurts like nothing else, but there’s no denying that it’s fucking beautiful.
Emily included the following when she sent me this song:
658 was our address in Los Angeles. This was the first song I ever wrote because I felt I HAD to or I would die. It was a night in October, daylight savings I recall, and I was sitting at my friend’s house, having just broken up with my first love. And it just came out all at once, no pen and paper. I just remembered it and kept singing it to comfort myself. It became my own personal lullaby. It’s been years since that night, but I’ve realized that people can still relate to the feelings in this song and find the same comfort in it that I did.
You can listen to more of Emily‘s music here
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