Welcome all to ๐๐ผ๐ป๐ป๐ผ๐น๐น๐โ๐ ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ป๐ฒ๐ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐๐๐ฌ ๐ผ๐ง๐ฉ๐๐จ๐ฉ ๐๐ฅ๐ค๐ฉ๐ก๐๐๐๐ฉ playlists.
๐๐๐ ๐ฟ๐๐ฎ ๐ผ๐๐ฉ๐๐ง – ๐ฝ๐๐ก๐ก๐ฎ ๐๐ค๐ฌ๐ง๐ฎ
Charles talks about tomorrowโฆ
There is something I have always found mildly fascinating, ever since I was young. I mean, even younger. It involves the passing of time, and the way we regiment said passing of time. A birthday, for example. It is a day for celebration. But we have decided this. It is not actually the actual day of oneโs actual birth. It is to commemorate x-amount of years since oneโs birth. But what is a year? We split life into years, yet this is a human invention. God did not place years on our table. Neither did God invent the table (but its simple perfection leads me to wonder). Sure, the seasons make the idea of years a little easier to digest and swallow, but what if we go further into monthsโฆ Why 12? Why does January start in, well, January? And what about weeks and even days? Why is Sunday the so-called day of rest? I say โso-calledโ because on Sunday I had to do a full dayโs work alongside constant power tools across the road that only stopped shortly before 7pm. Day of rest, my FOOT!! This fictional birthday I spoke of before, it is technically just another day. Just like New Yearโs Day. It is technically just another day. With a โdayโ only being made official by the sun going up and down like a slow-motion yoyo.
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