Stardom is a domain of fable, books, and cinema at times- Vince Chinaski traces the contours of form and body as though ephemera stricken by overwhelming demands. We are parallel rivers at the eve of being a profound sea.
It eats at us, the willingness of the stars to disclose such pockets of secrets, while we carry on like barren hosts caught in a mauve trove of desert. Vince Chinaski’s “Never Painted Black” is a caravan of strange artifact wavering under the pink moon- And we are still young (despite our age) so we gather the vernacular of brightness and light and put it in our pockets while we trek through mountainous regions like nodes in our minds.
“Through his eyes behold the sky/ I realize I have him on the ground,” there is a depth that marks Vince Chinaski’s “Never Painted Black” a both lucent and dusty space; a quiet pain at the center. The guitars are sparse and opaque while the vocals are a ebbing of transcendence.
Wondering the innermost realms of Vince Chinaski we see how the sad, reclusive lyrics reveal an illustrative realism that becomes a painted bird in a cage howling allusions of life and death, movement and madness that may very well echo eternally.
There’s a deep brooding in the vocals of Vince Chinaski’s “Never Painted Black” as though an animal pierced through with a wire, a wound succumbing to introspection where one pokes there head into the mirror of galaxies and ponders their mortality. We see the grave fluctuations at hand, that force pulling at Vince Chinaski and we are subject to its velocity like herons at the foot of a pond. In the conundrum that is the heart of Vince Chinaski’s “Never Painted Black” we wrestle with its aching dominion, where it’s brutality unearths greater truths about each of us.
Written by Hari Palacio
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