We suddenly cut from the intro, from melting synths to gentle strums. Like you’re taken from a great beyond—some intermediate space—a limbo—and thrown into something beautiful, but deeply somber underneath. "Cut the string" sounds like it was recorded on old digi. Reminiscent of early 2000's YouTube. The imperfection of the recording is intimate. It's unclear whether the bass is intentional or accidental strumming of unintended strings.
Like many songs on this album, the lyrics are not straightforward. Ivy seems to prioritize the scene rather than the story. And yet, I don't think we have any less of a story because of it. The imagery is really visceral here. Disgustingly so. And that's what sticks in memory. It's the visceral moments which make you feel in retrospect. So there's a blend between erotic imagery and an abusive dynamic. Very Punpun-esque. We take something beautiful and subject it to something so clearly twisted. It's not supposed to be like this. We dip into depravity throughout this song. And a theme in the album is this contradictory submission. It is almost painted romantically. But it really isn't that. There's no way to look at it without the dark edge.
I absolutely love these lyrics. It's very powerful imagery. Pulsating in the dark? We don't know what it is. But we have two things: Movement and lighting. There's an eldritch quality to it. And it taps into some very primal sensory descriptions. It's restless. It's dangerous. It's brutal. Blood on the sheets. What could this mean? Rape? Consensual extremity? Who knows. As a listener I'm almost scared to find out. And Ivy doesn't give us the satisfaction of looking this scary thing in the eyes. It remains obscure throughout the track.
So what is this secret? Warn her about what? We continue to be left in the dark. The song is a secret that only Ivy and this mysterious other knows. They know. What is it? Is it too taboo to mention? Too painful? Too personal? And the line, "it's making you sick". Ivy knows this person isn't completely indulgent. There's this appeal to humanity. It's also interesting and kind of unsettling, that all we get in the song is Ivy asking this other. It's almost like she is protecting their privacy. Respecting their agency. How come? Humanizing the abuser? It's all so fascinating and complex.
This is a really telling chunk. I don't know how to interpret this other than as an abusive relationship. All Ivy says is "why?" "You know what'll happen." "It doesn't end well" so why? It's a good question. How many "bad" people in the world are truly incapable of reflection? Feel no guilt? Are blind of consequences? So why do they do what they do? This is philosophically interesting; an interrogation of agency, control, self, and desert. What drives these things? The logic feels arbitrary.
So this is a clear parallel to the earlier bridge. We move from pulsating to wriggling. Dark to mud. Sheets to hands. We've given form to this "thing". It's moving down in abstraction, which is an interesting choice.
I think this song ends at a very interesting place. Sonically and lyrically. It ends in a suggestion. And the measure isn't finished. I don't have much to say about it but it makes me feel quite a lot. Details like this make me really love Ivy Knight.