Circles, Cycles and Growth (Album Analysis - Part 1)

                                                        (Narrated Version of the Article)

            When I first discovered LÉON, I was on the way home with my father from a long day at college.  At first, I thought it was another copy of a different artist singing in a key far too high. But then I tuned in. I started listening to the lyrics, and though they were simple, I found that more of what I was looking for and enjoying stemmed from the music. As I listened to the album, I realized I enjoyed it more and more as it progressed. I started following the music and saw how it built itself to follow behind the lyrics. Now, when I say music, I am referring to the instruments that make the song up. Sometimes, artists will use their ear-catching beats to rapt listeners when, realistically, their lyrics or vocals are lacking.

            I didn’t feel this way when I listened to this album. I felt each word as if I was the one saying it myself. It caught me off guard; I haven’t had an artist I’ve felt this connected to since I discovered Lizzy McAlpine (that’s another retrospective for another time.) The album—is very clearly about trying relationships and different endurance over time. Adequately named Circles, the album establishes and builds a roughly cyclical motion in the themes, wrapping back on itself in The Beach (the eleventh and final track) as if the introductory track, Dancer, is beginning the cycle again. Reading through the lyrics and hearing the progression of the music as the story grows and changes, this theme really started to stand out to me. How much can one endure before we change—or—can we change enough to prevent a cycle from happening again?

            Now, I want to make a note of this: I have an inherent bias towards this album (obviously, because I’m writing about it), and none of my opinions and inferences about the songs are claimed to be true in any way. I derive pleasure from exploring obscure themes and looking at/learning from different ways of seeing/listening to media. If this analysis interests you enough to listen to the album, I will argue that you should do so. This album is an experience, just like any other work of art. It is meant to be listened to and enjoyed, and I encourage you to do that here.

            Hopping back into the subject of discussion here, I want to establish a few things. Knowing this won’t be perfect, I will pose questions and encourage you to do the same. I want to analyze how Circles by LÉON establishes multiple, varied cycles applicable to our lives. It’s also worth noting how some are breakable/unbreakable depending on our actions and how these circles in our lives can lead to growth.

 

Chapter 1 - Dancer & Wishful Thinking
            Chapter 2 – Soaked & Fade Into A Dream
            Chapter 3 – All My Heroes & Look Like That
            Chapter 4 – Lift You Up & Moonlight
            Chapter 5 – Circles, Wildest Dreams, & The Beach
            Chapter 6 - Conclusion

Dancer (Track 1) & Wishful Thinking (Track 2)

            I want to take this song by song, giving a fair voice to each piece and letting them speak for themselves. As I said earlier, this work deserves the same amount of attention we give anything else. Our first two tracks, (Track 1) Dancer and (Track 2) Wishful Thinking, are strong opening songs that introduce this cycle and—in some ways—represent the beginnings of the circle.

            The song starts with music, an upbeat, airy synth (forgive my abusive use of subjective terminology; I’m an English major, not a Music Theorist) that almost gives listeners a washover of pleasure and enjoyment. It begins with the fear of falling in love—falling fast. Dancer, in this specific instance, is taking on the approach that one can be a dancer, moving elegantly through the beautiful and hopeful parts of a relationship, such as feeling as though you can rely on your partner for your heartbeat or that you can make them out in various facets of nature. Whatever the motivation, you find yourself as the dancer (henceforth referred to as such).

            This new love—the fear of it also—is washing over you peacefully but still striking that sense of foolishness; did I fall too fast? Am I doing too much so soon? As the lyrics say, it quite literally feels feverish: fast-paced, action-packed, knowledge-gaining of an entirely new soul. To say it isn’t frightening—now that seems foolish. Dancer puts the listener and the participant (the love interest) in the spotlight, putting you under a streetlight as the sun streaks the sky while it sets. It’s the beginning of the love cycle, the beginning of you as the Dancer enduring this experience in love.

            Then, we switch to Wishful Thinking. Something worth keeping in mind is the perspectives of the singer and how it can alter how we view the participant and you as the dancer. Starting slower, Wishful Thinking begins with what almost feels like a recollection of a delightful memory; it almost feels like the actual ending of Track 1. The music beautifully represents how the singer and you, as the Dancer, feel in this moment. All of Track 1 was in the first person progressive; Wishful Thinking switches perspectives halfway through verse 2, indicating that though the experience has passed, circumstances have obviously changed, the memories are retained, and a new experience is beginning (possibly with the parting of lovers).

            It's difficult to honestly tell if you, as the Dancer, are over these memories and feelings. Holding onto wishful thinking that these shared experiences still exist as what Toni Morrison describes in Beloved as a “re-memory,” or the physical encapsulation of an experience(s) that can be “re-lived” when one approaches the subject again. These re-memories are typically emotionally provocative and aim to stimulate some sense of vulnerability from the person enduring them. In Wishful Thinking, you, as the Dancer, are forced to relive and hold onto these memories continually; that naïve way of thinking, knowing that both of you had a hope for the future that may not see reality. The hope is that there is a chance left for the ending of one story and the start of a new one. Let go of that wishful thinking and try something new, Dancer.

            These first two songs establish the setting and the scenario: parted lovers after a whirlwind initiation into this romance. The cycle begins here: love into loss. These two songs set up the rest of the album beautifully, preparing listeners to look out for how you, as the Dancer, interact with the world with love and the chance of continual change/growth.

Soaked (Track 3) & Fade Into A Dream (Track 4)

            Soaked plays off Track 2’s more subtle hinting at the cycle. It thoroughly digs into how pining after what once existed and what still exists in those memories can make one feel overwhelmed and desperate. The music of Soaked is deeper than Tracks 1 and 2, holding a less whimsical feeling, focusing more on the twanging coming from within you as the Dancer. The cycle continues in a new way; you consciously reach out and reclaim those feelings (connecting again to re-memory), but it doesn’t work, and the rekindling can leave you feeling embarrassed or even deflated. It’s hard to cope after the loss of an intimate connection. It can become unbearable to hold onto at a certain point, and you want to wash it all away, but it doesn’t work that way.

            Instead, you, as the Dancer, have a choice to make. Continue to hold onto these memories, or let them fade into something more dreamlike, further away than the perpetuation of a cycle rife with wanting and needing something you cannot have. You crave that change, but to get it, you need to realize it for yourself; no one can do that for you. The actions you take once you hit this point, as the Dancer, will then determine your outcome and if you will be able to grow as this passes. This song even lightly touches on the use of substance (wine, in this case) to try and rid yourself of this feeling. However, it is possible that this exacerbates the train of thought and can even make it worse. You must find something new.

           

            Fade Into A Dream is another track that aligns with the music. That sense of airy, light, and moving we saw from Track 1 has returned, as if you, as the Dancer, are starting to take control of yourself. You’re taking action to make the necessary changes that will allow you to start feeling better about the situation. You’re giving yourself space to breathe, feel, and understand but not pursue.

            Fade Into A Dream perfectly encapsulates those moments of weakness you may have to go about your day. That closeness is always with you, no matter what you do; that’s understood. However, there is a difference between coping and healing and using obsession and longing as means of doing so. You think about how it is so easy to fall back into these memories and find yourself again entrenched, up to your neck, in memories you don’t want to relive.

            The lyrics—quite literally—talk about the participant as fading away into a dream, that some things are never meant to last, and that you will hold space occasionally in your mind, but at the end of the day, this is the change you're working towards.

            Stepping out of this analytical mindset, I want to give credit to all of the music behind the tracks on this album. The music is carefully crafted to rise and fall with moments of intensity in the lyrics and vocals, and provides an air around the tracks that makes the music feel like it belongs there on that specific song. Fade Into A Dream is no exception to this. The music is simplistic, follows, and modifies to match how you, as the Dancer, are approaching every moment in your life. You’re viewing life in a different light now, processing the past and moving past it. The music represents this with a compassionate and gentle melody that plays throughout the song. The cycle is changing. You’re breaking it. Good.

All My Heroes (Track 5) & Look Like That (Track 6)

            All My Heroes feels like a divergence or splitting of a path from Tracks 1-4 and the Dancer/Participant narrative we’ve been carrying. However, you can argue that the rough waves of the instrumental follow the experience you, as the Dancer, are encountering, almost interpreting this piece as going back to your old lover, undoing the change you’ve worked hard to find.

            On the other hand, this could be a passing experience for you, as the Dancer, and how it impacts future decisions and self-love/respect. Another more prominent overall theme is the idea of change and how it can be seen as good and bad. In All My Heroes, this experience with this participant is supposed to stifle you, as the Dancer, and the path of change you’ve chosen for yourself. He wants you stuck on him, unable to move away, with no drive to seek improvement in your life.

            Realistically, this type of relationship happens more than you’d think. The other person requires that attachment and will make you build that dependence on them until that is all you have. He doesn’t want to change his horrible behaviors and won’t let you change your own, for a change in perspective would cause a shift in the relationship between you. It would split right down the middle, creating a divide between “wanting to get better” and “comfortable being unable to get better.”

            This is a cycle that continues endlessly if you let it. You continue wishing to leave, gleaning new perspectives from other people (friends, family, etc.), and then he says something to break your spirit, convincing you to stay. These stories work in different ways, all folding into breaking or maintaining these good/destructive cycles in your life as the Dancer.

            Look Like That feels more like continuing this overall love/loss cycle we’ve uncovered. If we take the first approach I listed under Track 5, Look Like That starts to make more sense.

            As the Dancer, you decided to reverse that progress you were making and willingly went back to that connection you once had, starting the cycle again. At the same time, the shifty perspective of this song feels…deceptive to this idea. Maybe it is a fling? You’re seeing this ex-lover again, not interested in the small talk, wanting to know the heart and soul of this person you once knew. You want to learn this new version of who you once loved. It breaks you inside to see them so different and remember how easy it was to love them before, but now? It's hard to find yourself interested in retaking the fall. So, could you argue that you’ve already changed?

            It’s a strange change in perspective, considering that we are now at the halfway point of the album. The need to go back, being comfortable with the pain that rekindling this connection brings, seeking just that quick hit of sexual dopamine…it all feels off-putting, like a hit to the heart.

            All My Heroes and Looks Like That are the two songs that have stumped me since I first listened to this album in great detail. It feels like they can be about our participant in Tracks 1 and 2, but at the same time, it feels like it can be an entirely new person with the same feelings you, as the Dancer, once had.

            This entire time, subsequent lovers that have come your way have evoked that re-memory for you, seeing the face of the love that stands out the most to you. Feeling the way that someone else once made you feel is a frightening experience. You want to compromise and see these things working, regardless of if it hurts. But how does this change our cycle? I’m not sure.

 

            LINK TO PART 2!

Circles, Cycles and Growth (Album Analysis - Part 2)