In the shadow-hued corners of Anton Commissaris’ latest melody garden, “Don’t Come Around Here,” spills like spilled wine on a lover’s letter—a 12/8 minor blues jazz concoction swirling with ghosts of smoke and midnight. This isn’t just music; it’s an excavation site where listeners unearth the cracked foundations of a tumultuous affair with echoes between chords that taste both sweet and bitter.
Anton Commissaris, a maestro at the piano, crafts notes that bend like light through whisky glass—each twirl around soul-infused jazz lines is a narrative arc in itself. Saturated deeply in the muddy waters of blues and whispers of country timbre, he sings as if his heartstrings are being plucked by the fingers of fate herself. Every verse is loaded with poetic candor about bandaging old wounds while prying off emotional shackles.
Through “Don’t Come Around Here,” we glide along Commissaris’ lyrical river, ferried by his rich baritone that conflicts majestically against an addictive femme fatale’s allure in sonic embrace. It stitches together threads from Stevie Wonder’s tapestry with Bloomsbury-esque melancholia—an auditory tale spun round addiction to love’s sharp needles and heartache’s soft cries for escape.
Isn’t there something painfully beautiful about watching daybreak split through dark curtains? That moment parallels Anton echoing freedom from veins laced with poisonous passion—all articulated through rhythmic crescendos which mimic scattered pulses racing towards severed ties.
This track dances—the kind where each step resonates across cobblestones laden not just within foregone paths but those freshly carved towards sunlit avenues too bittersweet to traverse alone yet optimistic enough for tentative smiles tomorrow. Simply said: it liberally seasons one’s palate with intricate tales riding high on vibrations strung deep through layers unseen but ardently felt.
Follow Anton on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, YouTube and TikTok.
