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Tiny Lights

XM Records | 2019

Romain Collin / piano, Moog Taurus, vocal effects
Matthew Stevens / electric guitar
Obed Calvaire / acoustic & electronic drums

The City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra (4, 10)

Tracking and mixing and mastering by Jeremy Loucas
Produced by Romain Collin
Co-produced by Jeremy Loucas and Obed Calvaire
Executive producer Yassir Fichtali

  • 5:22
    Romain Collin
  • 3:35
    Romain Collin
  • 3:59
  • The genesis. The voice before it was silenced. Inner visions of a promise and a destiny. The boy is pushed into the light violently, out of pain. Everything turns dark. There is noise and chaos, brutal and piercing, cold needles and blades crawling like ants. Tiny Lights flicker. They whisper and gently move inside the boy’s mouth and body. The boy has grown into a young man, Tiny Lights glow a little brighter. They make beautiful clicks and noises, they are so close yet so distant. With a most violent push, the young man escapes gravity. Something burns inside him, it overflows, pours out of his nose, his mouth, his eyes… Light, drops of bright yellow light expelled in the cold, infinite space. It is dark all around. Tiny Lights and his personal truth are all that he has. The winds blow in all directions. The revolution has started. A call to arms. The young man burns inside. His boots are too tight and his clothes worn out. He wants a name that’s his, and a face he can recognize. There is resistance and bloodshed, the eradication of the old giving birth to the new. To create, the young man must destroy violently. Tiny Lights and his personal truth are all that he has. There is earth all around, warm soil and the beating sun. His past seems tired and distant, his future unfathomable. He stares deeply into the abyss. The young man must realize his vision with his hands, his heart, his ankles and his knees. Tiny Lights and his personal truth are all that he has. The young man shines in his truth and desires. He has become a great leader of people. He is the incandescence of his promise. His disciples follow him to their loss. For gold only lays in the obscure trenches of the heart, in the most feared and guarded recesses of the soul. The leader asks his followers who they were as children, and who they are destined to become. But his followers are deaf, numb, and helpless. At every step their leader burns harder into his light, so he can become all that he is, so he can say all that he has to say, and give all that he has to give. Everyday he burns a brighter flame that fills the void of existence with a thick yellow light, a fire that heals and destroys, a force that brings about chaos and indescribable beauty. His decaying flesh turns to gold as the teeth of primal fear try to cut through it all. Tiny Lights and his personal truth are all that he has. The sun has passed its zenith. The fire, raging and boundless, ravishes everything on its path. The disciples have left their leader, confused, crippled and frail. For his gold they could never possess. And their lights were long lost in the somber attics of their fractured souls. Their leader leaves the shore to reach the sun. There is no land in sight, it’s all water, everywhere. The sun drips over the ocean, waves carry him away. He slowly fades as the water turns gold. Loneliness made beautiful. There is nothing left but deep waters and an impenetrable light. The leader, the visionary, the boy is gone. The burning sun swallows him whole. Silence whispers a deafening song of rapture and eternal sleep. Tiny Lights and his personal truth were all that he had.