One listen.

I spun this song for the first time in ages last week. Actually, maybe there was a spinning of it a few weeks back, but I can’t remember. Anyway, I was listening to it last week and enjoying what I was hearing until I suddenly remembered why I stopped listening to the song all those years back, and by extension, Grün.

Listening to the song to write about it revealed a lot of things to me about how it flowed (really, a lot of these writings do that, but you know), and it became interesting to me in a new way. The way that it tells narrative, I think, is really good, but if you don’t want that then you’ve a decent rocking tune.

Grün’s “The Hunt” is from Manyana.

I hope you enjoy.

—

Ticking away and guitar plays over light and pressing at the same time. Building a tension that slithers and sneaks along, and notes rise up and grow louder, and it goes and goes, and that tension lies out a plain, flat and large, and small and contained.

Bass takes over and plays a groove of sorts, seemingly cut and flowing at the same time. Guitar returns and bristles and and rages along it, then percussion comes in and crashes loudly, quietly. And it all locks in.

Something more grand now. A sense of grandeur and danger, and the danger excites and pushes, and teases in a sense. And there’s something exciting in all of this as most guitar pulls back whilst another warps and morphs, trying to escape something. The second guitar Returns and chugs before expanding out and pushing the excitement and the danger of it all. Revealing the risk, but creeping up, creeping up and then striking.

The sounds strike out, they grow larger, they grow more intense. And suddenly, space.

Quieter, lowering, taking a breath, or perhaps just frozen in the moment. Or the moment moves slow and pursuit is in place. Pursuit in a way, and there’s a mournfulness coming through. Mournful, sad, almost heartrending. It is how it must be, however, and in a slight uncertainty a drive comes through.

The sounds rage once more. They rage and focus and strike and strike again, and they are relentless. They grow intense. They grow loud. They pursue and strike and keep striking, and they push harder and grow louder, and something among it all starts howling out. Howling and screaming and crying, and it is surrounded and beaten down and struck and struck again, and it is barely heard above the ordered chaos and menace of it all,  until it all comes to a stop.

That sound continues to howl out and cry and scream in a withering manner, full of energy, full of weakness until it too suddenly stops and the song ends.