Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Patrick Stolley
It feels so freeing to listen to a group like Soy Un Caballo. It doesn't really even matter that the lyrics the Belgium duo sing don't any sense to us. Well, it probably helps a little to create that feeling, but it is more. Hearing Aurélie Muller and Thomas Van Cottom sing these songs in their native French language is like hearing the growth of gorgeous petals out of the buds of spring flowers. It's like hearing those smooth, colored and waxy surfaces spring into vibrancy, the nutrients flowing into their veins right on time, reaching to touch the streams of sunlight coming down. Soy Un Caballo songs are expressions of easy breezes, of getting carried away by a good gust.
There's a children's book which starts in an orphanage, where a little girl begins to levitate a little more and a little more over a short period of time, until she's able to leave through her window and float through the sky to the home of a man she doesn't recognize. He immediately recognizes the little girl - the child of his dead brother and sister-in-law - whom he'd been searching for, but he didn't know where to find her. He immediately adopts her and when the girl returns to the orphanage to visit her friends one day, the head mistress (who is not the Miss Hannigan type from "Annie," but a kind and caring woman) asks the little girl to guess whom else has started to float, at which point she sees her friend hovering up near the chandelier.
A Soy Un Caballo song has the same sort of effect on you, when you listen, catching beneath you and lifting you just a bit into a sunny spot or out of the quagmire of your thoughts, into a crystal clean mountain stream for a refreshing dip. It makes you feel like a cabin that's been filled by the heat that comes from a stack of logs giving its lives to a burning fire in the night. They make you feel as if you've been somewhere you've never been, as if, just maybe, you got to live a little tonight.