Dust motes danced in the pre-dawn light, much like how my brain felt after hearing The Dinosaur’s Skin’s “Meteor Shower.” Trex and Triceratops, that dynamic duo from, uh, the past, seem to have found the perfect blend of heart-thumping bass and wistful synth. It’s not a typical love song; it’s a love song told by asteroids, apparently, hurtling through space. Quite the cosmic heartbreak, you know?
The whole thing swirls like a forgotten candy wrapper caught in an updraft – oddly beautiful and slightly melancholic. You’d think two gigantic reptiles would be all roar and fury. Not so. They channel this surprisingly fragile sense of wanting something that’s always slipping away. Which, let’s face it, is the most human thing ever. It hits you in the gut, somewhere between your ribs and where you keep that half-eaten box of cereal.
Sometimes it makes you wonder if that one time you missed a bus on purpose was actually some profound existential moment being experienced by some distant rock. Did that bus, like some love, simply pass me by? It does make me wonder; why do some buses (and loves!) keep circling while others disappear, gone in a blink of an eye? These two have captured the ephemeral nature of these celestial rendezvous quite skillfully.
It’s retro without being a copy-paste of the past and lo-fi without feeling underproduced. This isn’t the music of stone giants; it’s more like the quiet rumbling inside a volcano when it’s thinking of maybe, just maybe, finally erupting… into confetti. Their sound seems familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on exactly why. That’s quite something. It resonates far beyond the soundwaves.
“Meteor Shower” manages to make something about the vast emptiness of space feel very, very personal, leaving you with a sense that even when we are hurtling alone through our own universes, we can never truly be completely alone.
Follow The Dinosaur’s Skin on Website, Facebook, YouTube, Instagram
