The Tasty Kings with Blondie Chaplin are putting together the shards of a broken mirror.
For someone who played midnight gigs at the age of twelve in 1963 South Africa, you’d think Blondie could be jaded. But his eyes are clear, his voice is raw, and he conducts this song in a sacred tone. He lies back on crimson carpet in a hotel with nowhere to be, and thinks about this strange moment in time. And what does he promise?
The city is impenetrable, the overpass is blank, the cars are blurs. But a parade of souls, portraits that quiver like a flower does, show us humanity. Even when these beautiful characters are filmed alone, they’re brought together. The queen, the mother, the child, the hero from a long-ago dream, the poet running guns on the side.
It's a fractured place we call home these days, we’re divided and at odds. But Blondie’s words match each brief moment here of exquisite dance, a girl laughing, a man moving with a shadow—proving we’re all one, and the same spirit flows through every being.
Los Angeles, USA