August 23, 2017

EP: 24 hour diner - break my heart again

24 hour diner whispers weighted messages in their short EP.

Lately, I haven’t felt present. I don’t feel like I’m inhabiting my chest in the way that I should be; it’s like I’m not fully here. It’s not that that I won’t allow myself to experience feeling, or that I’m heartless. It’s that, in recent weeks, I’ve felt too much heart. I’ve put it under too much strain, so it’s responded by splattering out of my chest and all over my bedroom carpet. It’s in little bits everywhere and I’m too exhausted to stand. I don’t have it in me to clean everything up. So instead I’m just sitting here: unhere; knowing that I should get out of bed, but also knowing that I can’t right now. So instead I listen to 24 hour diner’s break my heart again, pretending that the day doesn’t exist outside. And for a little while, it works. The day doesn’t exist for a while, and neither do I. This is why.

24 hour diner is from Sydney, Australia. This release is small, fleeting. It’s only two songs long. It’s like someone has just brushed shoulders with you on the street, murmuring something in your ear on their way past. You didn’t fully hear what they said but you could tell it meant a lot, by the heaviness of their voice; by the new weight you have hanging over you afterwards. This is an inevitable feeling. You didn’t even need to meet the eyes of the stranger passing by to get it in-between your hands. This is what it feels like to listen to don’t break my heart again. All you have to do is press play and wait for two minutes to pass.

"don’t talk to me", the first track of the EP, opens with a voicemail message. A familiar lo-fi buzz moves in, and a voice begins to sing, as if responding to the unanswered phone call: “wandering eyes / late at night / shivering cold / you see me on the other side / pretend we’re strangers for another time.” A keyboard plays, almost overtaking the sound of the voice we’re hearing; the voice isn’t much more than a murmur. It’s distant. It’s shy, it’s nervous, it won’t meet your eyes – but the voice still wants to tell you how it’s feeling, whether you’re a passersby or whatever more. Whoever you are, as long as you’re listening, this will work. You’ll hear it. You’ll feel it. It doesn’t matter that the drum machine is almost louder than the voice itself, or that the keyboard feels bigger. The words will still be there, heavy in your ears. This is followed by "when i grow up." In this song, all 24 hour diner has is a keyboard and armfuls of aspirations: “I wanna be a doctor / I wanna be a lawyer / I wanna be a daughter / I wanna be a stranger / I wanna be pretty / I wanna be the whole entire world.” Needless to say, the sentiments between these two songs were exactly what I needed. I may have had my curtains drawn, pretending that the day, and me, no longer exist. But this EP made sure that I still got to hear the stranger with the weighted words, murmuring their way across the footpath down the street. I got my message, accompanied by the comforts of a keyboard and the soft pad of a drum machine. I heard the words without having to pull apart the curtains, or even open up my window. 24 hour diner has been the shoulder I’ve been feeling for. don’t break my heart again is what I’ve been listening for. I hope I’ll soon feel ready to be the whole entire world.


Listen to 24 hour diner on bandcamp

Madalyn Trewin, a scrawny Australian with way too much time on her hands, endlessly staring up at the sky. She likes to pull words out of the air and put them back together as well as she can. So, most of the time, she’s pretending she’s a poet all over her blog.