The body doesn't flush itself as well as we'd like it to. We actually have to take action to get it to cleanse. It won't just do it on its own. The detoxification of the organs and all parts sullied is not automatic. It needs an intervention. We need to pump fluids when our system's been infiltrated, when the walls have been warped and broken down, made to feel like wet cardboard. It's easy for our bodies, for our selves to be overtaken. Often, we encourage this happening. We allow others to come right on in, believing that there's something good in handing over our vulnerability.
The songs that Tove Lo makes are those which point out that self-induced predicament, where the body needs help, but it was to blame for all of its woes, as they stand. This trio of songs, recorded this spring during the annual pilgrimage to Austin for the South By Southwest music festival, are rife with roughed up hurts that are beginning to scab over, but those clots are still so fresh that they could catch on a sleeve, a seat belt or a passerby and reopen, starting the process all over again. The people that Lo sings about are very much still at the mercy of what and who they got themselves into. There is only forgetting after a very long period of time and even then, a scent or a heavy drag of air, could pull them into another hard fall or toppling. They are trying to clear themselves of certain memories, of certain people, but they're being picky about what they're willing to omit and what they're going to retain. There's always something redeeming, even in the saddest of exchanges, the most worthless of minglings. We give ourselves the freedom to deprave ourselves to get to a more concentrated point, even if we never find that blurry point.