I love Poe because she’s dark and soft, like black silk; she’s always softer than I expect and darker than that softness prepares me for. I always expect her to be a hard metal kind of sound—like an Evanescence—but find a ballad or soft rock instead. And once hearing that, I expect her lyrics to be ballad-like and soft.
I ought to know better.
This may be the least wild song you will ever hear and yet it speaks to the wildness in me. Like a cat whose claws are hidden, so they are soft fur above and soft leather beneath, Poe reminds me that there’s a sharpness hidden that can cause much pain.
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I go wild
Wild because the chips are down
Wild because there isn’t anybody else around
Wild ’cause it doesn’t make sense
For me to cry out in my own defense
You’re not the only one who can smell fear
You’re not the only one who lives on instincts
No I’ve got instincts of my own
You wrote the rules to try to contain me
You broke ‘em—Now you have untamed me
And I’m wild.
These are the kinds of thoughts I have when my feminist hackles are raised: I live in your world and I play by your rules but when you hit my sister, when you cut my sister, when you deny my sister basic rights and healthcare, I go wild. My instincts take over and I go wild—because crying out for help doesn’t work. You’ve untamed me.
And that’s one of the major reasons I’m always surprised by her darkness—Poe passes as a proper ballad singer who doesn’t make waves until I pay attention and realize that she’s just like me: Wild.
See also, Haunted, the title track from the album she wrote to accompany her brother’s House of Leaves, an awesome, distressing horror novel about a house that eats people. (This is a description which does not do it justice. Check it out if you think you can deal with having that in your head.)
What is it you adore?
Won’t you tell me what would you go wild for?