What if a nightclub song could bring you back to yourself?
With These Nights, Cannons turns groove into a more intimate question: what remains of us when no one is looking anymore?
Mainly recent music but not only...
What if a nightclub song could bring you back to yourself?
With These Nights, Cannons turns groove into a more intimate question: what remains of us when no one is looking anymore?
Some places don’t just host concerts.
They keep the nights, the sound, the bodies —
and give them back to you years later.
Places & Moments — Cabaret Sauvage, October 2014
👉 https://open.substack.com/pub/joscurrents/p/cabaret-sauvage-october-2014-457?r=5o7o5u&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true
Words circle, hesitate, disguise.
Bodies don’t.
Between 12 and 12 — Inner Currents Journal 🎧
https://open.substack.com/pub/joscurrents/p/between-12-and-12?r=5o7o5u&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true
Still another love song, because…
sometimes loving means learning
how to come back to yourself.
Tonight, four months of work finally take the stage.
It’s hard to think about anything else today.
I’m not trying to write grand statements or complex songs just for the sake of proving that it can be done.
What matters more to me is the power a song still has to move us.
A project left untouched for thirty years has begun to haunt me again.
Part of me wonders whether I’m meant to revive it — or finally let it go…
What does it take, today, to be seen — and not erased?
A project left untouched for thirty years has begun to haunt me again.
Part of me wonders whether I’m meant to revive it — or finally step aside and let it go.
There are songs we love
without ever quite daring to return to them.
Not because we forgot them —
but because they stayed exactly where they first touched us.