Inspiration Through Music: Fink

Every time I do one of these Inspiration Through Music blogs, I wonder what it is that my readers get out of reading this. Besides discovering new music, there is an appreciation that I hold for all of these different artists, soundtracks, and styles of music. There is something in them that, no matter what they are, helps me to be able to write, to do what I love to do. In a way, they assist in a kind of weekly writing exercise that is great practice at keeping my mind sharp. Working a busy schedule, I don’t always have a moment to sit down and work on my books. I’ve got groceries, cleaning, cooking, and the obligatory playing with the lemon-eyed demon. It’s nice when I can just sit down, turn on some music, close my eyes, and be able to just “feel” where a song is taking me. Not only “feel” the song, but be able to translate what I’m seeing into words. I had the pleasure of being able to do that this week while listening to Fink, someone I discovered only a couple weeks ago.

Fink is the stage name of English artist, Finian Greenhall. His style is trip-hop with a bit of ambient mixed in with techno beats. Essentially, its everything that I love in music put together. His style reminds me a lot of Massive Attack, but smoother and with lyrics that really get inside your head and make you think. When I discovered that The Walking Dead had finally released an album of music from the show, I immediately jumped online to discover what songs and was pleasantly surprised when I came across a remixed version of Warm Shadow. I instantly wanted to see what his other songs were like and was blown away. I’ve listened to him quite a bit while working on Book 3 for The Monstrum Chronicles as well as a few other projects. Today, I’m going to share four songs of his with you and write about what it is that I see when I listen to them. This can be a handy writing exercise for you, too, don’t you forget! Enjoy!

Perfect Darkness: Shoes slapped cement. it was a strange day, warm but misty in the city. He’d left the house not too long ago, intending on going to the store. But he’d walked right passed it. Something about the walk calmed him, sent him into a contemplative oasis where the world around didn’t matter. All he could do was think about things in his life and think about things at home. He walked passed the subway station and down passed where the tracks came above ground, his shoes crunching on the crushed gravel. He traveled down through the poorest sections of the town, his eyes following the colorful streaks of graffiti and his ears following the children’s screams of delight as they played tag with a fire hydrant in between them. Basketball bouncing in the court deeper into the thicker mist, he watched the men as they swam in the white air, blocking and tracking one another, sweat pouring out of their bodies. He passed by the largest market in the city, took in sweet floral scents and the rainbow of fruits and vegetables arranged in their baskets. Finally, he passed through the financial district, the clicks and clops of heels and shoes around him, the high-rise glass towers spearing the blue sky that he could barely see through the cracks the towers created.

Warm Shadow: Climb out of bed. Look over your shoulder. He’s still asleep, the pale blue sheet pulled just up to his abs. Sit up, take a deep breath. The air is cold but stale. Stand. Pull your long sleeve shirt and jeans out of the dresser and take them with to the bathroom. Shower chirps to life, steam completely covering the room in very little time. Climb in. Feel the hot rain on your skin, slipping down over you. Still so tired. But this seems to wake you, if just a little bit. Dressed, step down the cool wooden stairs into the kitchen. Start the coffee, hear the gurgle as it comes to life. Smell the strong infusion, like ambrosia to your senses, it lifts you up. Sit at the table, stare out the window. Morning arrived without a grand entrance. The sun is hidden behind white, clouds don’t seem to end or begin anywhere, they just are. This is the day. This is the end before the new beginning.

Move On Me: Dazzling, the lights of the city are almost blinding. They conceal a city of corruption, a city of more danger and glamour, a chance to take risks, a chance to become something other than what you are. They come off as the epicenter of fun, they are where people go to lose themselves in another lie. This is the place that has and will always be a mirror ball to the world, forever hiding its terrible secrets and projecting a place to be carefree, a place to forget your fears. Here, no one knows you. No one can judge. It’s the perfect place to start over, a place where being false is being true. This was a new start for her. Whether she admitted it or not, this place was a death trap. But, it had the potential for her to leave it all behind… it had the potential for her to find the one she’d been looking for for years. There was no guarantee she’d survive. But, if this was the place to die, it would be when she least expected it. If there was anything she knew about this city, it was that it threw things at you to keep everything interesting.

Fear Is Like Fire: He stood off to the side, every part of him burning. It felt as if his lungs had been set ablaze and the longer he stood there staring, the more they were consumed. He wished he could just step in, just be able to get up in front of the crowd and do his thing, sing to his heart’s content. The fear kept him in place. His skin tingled with the fresh dose of worry coursing through his system. He’d never, ever done this for anyone, not even those close to him. How was he supposed to get up in the club in front of a bunch of people and do this? Other people had. He knew that. They seemed to be immune to the loop-dee-loops his stomach was now doing. He knew this could be a big break for him if he did it. All he had to do was take those first few steps and let his mouth do the rest. But he remained in the shadow feeling the time fade and his chances at doing anything peter out along with it. And when the light dimmed, his fists were clenched. He could imagine them flaming in the frustration and the anger with himself. He wanted to change. He wanted this. But why was he so afraid of it? Why did the potential to do better, to be better than one’s self suddenly make him feel so uneasy? Would he ever break out of it?

Next week on Inspiration Through Music, I’ll be checking out the music of the amazing Brandi Carlisle! Stay tuned!

~KSilva

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