I can’t explain what “Rêve” is to me or what it will mean to you. There’s no way to describe its delicate complexity and intricacy outside vagaries and silly metaphors. I’ve tried for years to successfully translate what the song does to me, how it makes me feel precisely, but the ability to get across in any concrete way the depths of its wistful heights has thus far eluded me spectacularly. To begin: it has no meaning yet also possesses infinite meaning, though, obviously, the fact that “Rêve” is an instrumental song is instrumental to this (pun intended?). “Rêve’s” fluidity is otherworldly enchanting, and what world exactly unfolds for me when I play it is always different at different times of the year. Hot summer evenings the sky is smeared with cotton candy blood and I could be a ruggedly handsome, ne’er do well detective with a heart of gold in a noir-ish, sci-fi mystery movie coming back to my apartment after a hard day of detecting, downing liberal amounts of rotgut whiskey directly from a nearly empty bottle. In the fall, I watch the leaves fall and think about how the song would make a great funeral dirge, a magnificent melody to fade to black with. Then there’s wintertime, when its cold and quiet and dark, when I drop the needle on “Rêve” ad nauseam, and it so fully fills me with nostalgia that I nearly drown in a sea of melancholy. By spring, when things are being called back to life, I play this to remind everything that this is not forever.
(Song recommendation by Tyrel Kessinger)