There’s something really soothing about this piece of music and writing. The simplicity of the soundscape is part of this, the minimalism of the guitar riff, the space, the distant delicacy of the keys, the light drum-line. Syke E’s voice is another big part of it, his tone fits perfectly with the mood set by the instrumentation, as does the melody – again, simple but notably hypnotic as it slowly surrounds you.
The song is definitely something of a grower, and this isn’t to say it doesn’t work the first time around – it does, or for me it certainly did, but the more times you let it play the more familiar the rhythm of it and certain lyrics become, so you start to connect a lot more authentically with the sound and what it’s all about. For example, despite the minimalism, there are certain thoughtful moments that really stand taller each time around. You can briefly hear something like a phone ringing at the start of the song, this is later replaced by space, which is then filled by Syke E’s voice.
Syke’s is a whispered voice, gentle, a little tired, honest. It makes the song feel like something incredibly personal, like a diary entry or a private encounter – a telephone call we were never meant to find ourselves listening in on. The lyrics later start to become more and more poignant as you progress, you wonder who the other is, the ‘you’ in question. You may even find yourself feeling an initial level of shock at the story line but then totally understand this idea of someone or something who is bad for you simultaneously being the best you’ve ever had.
Skye E speaks to his audience in a real way, the song seeming even like something of a freestyle on occasion. It’s entrancing to listen to, calming and thought provoking all at once, and undoubtedly with an addictive sort of overall ambiance and feel.
I tried so hard just to be what they wanted me to be