"F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E." by Pulp

If you can name me any song not by Barry White or Marvin Gaye that is more seductive (or harder to type) than "F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E." I'll give you the props you deserve, but since I'm fairly confident that this is not possible, then, well, I win.

It might possibly be the apex of an apex of an album (Different Class) where Jarvis really just lets it all out. The low rumble, the electronic noises, the dusted beat and scratched strings all build until Jarvis' low whisper start — "the room is cold and it's been like this for several months" — it still gives me chills. The description of the room that follows downright criminal and it leads to the chorus, a plaintive howl trying to rationalize love. The whisper and the singing overlap until the chorus crashes and we're left with just Jarvis asking, "So what do I do? I've got a slightly sick feeling in my stomach like I'm standing on top of a very high building." Then it gets good. Hearing him describe love: "It's not chocolates boxes & roses, it's dirtier than that, like some small animal that only comes out at night." Remarkable. For those of you who haven't heard this song, this would be a perfect time to do so; it is the perfect example of a song that is more than just music, it's pure drama.

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