On Sunday I had the royal privilege of viewing Toronto get blasted by a Swedish shit-storm of Loney, dear. Emil Svanängen's progressive mini pop symphonies straddle melancholy and euphoria, with orchestrated climaxes that would emotionally affect an unfeeling robot.
Emil's forlorn falsetto embodies immaculate synergy with the quaint, melodic keys filling the air with a new form of oxygen. The heavens must have Loney, dear pouring out infinitely to provide a joy that far too many Earth dwellers will be deprived of.
Emil's forlorn falsetto embodies immaculate synergy with the quaint, melodic keys filling the air with a new form of oxygen. The heavens must have Loney, dear pouring out infinitely to provide a joy that far too many Earth dwellers will be deprived of.
I spoke to him: "(Mumble, mumble) ...wonderful (mumble mumble)."
He was more than kind.
1 comment:
oh loneys... you packed quite a few adjectives into that post! and the theatre was a holy place for the greeks. check the most reliable source out there...www.wikipedia.org
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