ICARUS PHOENIX “Icarus Phoenix” (Telos Tapes)


We pulled onto the interstate just as the sun started to peek over the horizon. We had each other. At first I thought we were running from something – we were, in actuality, hightailing it from some responsibilities that future we wouldn’t even remember, let alone consider important – but once those rays hit my eyes, stinging them with tears, and I flipped down my visor against them, I understood that what was ahead of us was actually something we were running toward. It filled my heart with joy, and even though the memory of that moment of sweetness would take on some bitter notes – we did indeed love some people that we left behind – there never in my mind entered any hint of regret or the twinge that we’d done the wrong thing. For the first time in what felt like forever, we had something to look forward to, some hope in a future that we were forging for ourselves. I cracked the window just enough to get a hit of that crisp morning autumn air, and it filled my chest and lungs and spread to my fingers and toes. I felt fricking alive.
This is how Icarus Phoenix, the brainchild of Drew Danburry, makes me feel. It reminds me of when I was young and lost, and every crazy decision felt immediate and raw and important. Maybe some of them were, but it doesn’t even matter. There’s a secret powderkeg ready to explode in all of us, and no matter how emotionally jarring it is, it is vital and it is real. I felt these things back in high school and college when I was listening to Bright Eyes and Sufjan Stevens, and I’m feeling them now with Icarus Phoenix. Gorgeous stuff.