Ladies And Gentlemen, Miss Grace Jones | Grace Jones
Rhythm is both the song’s manacle and its demonic charge.
It is the original breath. It is the whisper of unremitting demand.
What do you still want of me said the singer?
What do you think you can still draw from my lips?
Exact presence that no fantasy can represent.
Purveyor of the oldest secret. Alive with the blood that boils again and is pulsing where the rhythm is torn apart.
How your singer’s blood is incensed by the depth of sound. Lacerations echo in the mouths open erotic sky where dance together the lost frenzies of rhythm and an imploring immobility.
(Source: stupidtunes, via eshcaine)