I am not a stranger to obsession. I know what it is to hang onto emotional attachment long after tears are shed, doors have been closed, and international flights have departed. I’ve replayed the touch of a hand on my cheek. The taste of soft lips in fresh falling snow. These are the snapshots of love that endure beyond the final good byes. They’re imprinted into our selective memories.
In Edmund Spenser’s long and tortured poem “Daphnaida” he wrote:
“I hate the day, because it lendeth light
To see all things, but not my love to see.”
Despite his 16th Century verbosity Spenser encapsulates in two lines a pain so great that only eternal darkness could possibly provide any sort of relief. Gauging by the opening line of “Kill My Love” Rain on Monday’s Raimond Nurmilampi can relate to this sentiment. “Stab my heart and let it bleed…” sets the lyrical tone of desperation. From there Nurmilampi goes on to encourage his own death by vehicular manslaughter. This extreme imagery is carefully juxtaposed over a cheerful synth line that wouldn’t seem out of place in a 1980’s John Hughes movie. It’s this contrast that gives the song the necessary depth to set it apart. Almost as if the synth melody is a remembrance of happier times.
Nurmilampi’s husky defeated voice is the other highlight of this song. He sounds like he’s washed down a handful of Xanax with a plastic bottle of cheap bourbon and the vibe works. I believe him when he sings the words, “Can you kill my love if I can’t be with you?”. It’s a feeling everyone’s experienced at some point. That commonality the first indicator of a solid song. The second is that it’s also catchy enough that I found myself happily singing tonight while buying mangos at the grocery store. I look forward to hearing more from Rain on Monday.
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