December 19, 2022
When I first listened to “Crumble”, the latest single from IMC Family artist Thomas LaVine, it instantly wrapped me into a warm blanket and sent me to a frosty winter evening indulging in reminiscences. And then suddenly this image actually transformed into real-life as right now we’re experiencing a winter as freezing as it hadn’t been in a very long time where I live in Germany. You can see your breath vapouring towards a clear star-dotted sky; snow from a week ago is still emblazoning the streets and fields (and glistens beautifully in the misty morning sun); people are wearing simultaneously ridiculous and heart-warmingly sweet Christmas hats while meeting up with their friends at Christmas markets; you share blissful small and big moments of connection with the people closest to you; you overhear strangers on trains talking excitedly about baking “sesame peanut biscuits” soon to gift to their friends.
Considering these few winter impressions from overall thousands which I gathered over the course of the past few weeks it’s not very surprising that “Crumble” represents a warm wintery hug for me to return to after a long cold day out and about.
The end of the year often also carries a note of melancholy, especially when reflecting on everything you went through in the past year. There were moments of pure blissfulness and moments of grief and pain. And sadly, often the painful moments dwell the longest in our minds. So, as you’re watching the snowflakes dance in front of your window while pondering about the past it happens that you find yourself pretty much “staring at the silent cold”... feeling “frozen” and somehow “broken”.
Thomas’ vocals add a sweet, tender touch to the dreamy background synths and guitars, quite literally creating the mood of what he describes as “floating above the valley down below”, hoping for a bit of rootedness in a period of uncertainty.
Apart from the atmosphere he created, I generally related a lot to the lyrics he expresses in this song. Its bridge introduces a particularly gentle and affectionate tone with the words “You’re my harbour. It’s getting darker without you.” This winter season I find myself relating to this line more than I had initially expected to, being endlessly grateful for the company of certain people while dealing with a rather confusing, now and then also gloomy time. Clinging onto love and kindness in the most obvious as well as most unexpected corners of the last moments of 2022, even though you see an intertwined chaos of “snow and fire” when looking outside your window from time to time.
Written by Anna Naumenko.