"Here I am, not quite dying. My body left to rot in a hollow tree. Its branches throwing shadows on the gallows for me. And the next day and the next day and another day."
It's early days I'll grant you but culturally 2013 already appears to be defined by the comeback. The question is what does the resurgence of our past favourites really mean for the future of popular music?
There have always been comebacks. From Lazarus to Elvis Presley history is littered with them but 2013 has already seen David Bowie, Suede and My Bloody Valentine release their first music in a decade.
Of course with Bowie, as ever, the music is only half the story, and its no coincidence that the release of 'The Next Day' coincides with the V&A's retrospective exhibition 'David Bowie Is'.
When married to the self defacing 'anti' artwork of the album's sleeve and its reference to past glories therein you realise that, in PR terms, the guy's played a blinder.
I don't particularly care for the music of My Bloody Valentine but certainly the return of Suede has set my pulse racing. Their new album, Bloodsports, is a string of glamorous hooks and blood curdling ballads pulling on every last heart string.
Bowie, rumoured to be ill and widely regarded as in retirement, and Suede, who's last album defined a nadir for the band, both appear to be of the realisation that this is their last opportunity to define their legacy.
You might argue that with Bowie's glittering career there is hardly any need, yet it's to the credit of both performers that their artistic integrity forces them to redefine themselves in an age that could have quite easily rejected them.
On the contrary, as it turns out, they've been embraced! The Bowie exhibition is claimed to be the cultural event of the year by the Guardian newspaper - in March!
Unexpectedly, it's taken a 66 year old man and his 40 year old prodigies to shake us from our slumber. Surely this isn't the way it's supposed to be!?
Yet even the 'manufactured pop' clique, defined by their obsession for fashion and fad, has been in reflective mood of late. ITV2's The Big Reunion has been a gem of a show. Despite following many of the now tired reality TV tropes, the coming together of a clutch of 90's popstars has, against the odds, been a wonder to behold!
The genuine drama of the group members maturely and profoundly addressing the issues that once ripped them asunder is utterly compelling and the stark illumination of record label tyranny with relation to the well being of their young adult employees is refreshingly confronted.
When the groups nervously jump back in the saddle, the camaraderie between them is touching and genuine, with the self awareness to realise the transient nature of the fleeting moment they are in.
Atomic Kitten, 911, B'witched: all are seen for what essential they are - mildly talented individuals who took the chance of a lifetime and ran with it. You can hardly blame them for that and, in fact, when you see the price many of them paid you feel a genuine empathy.
Yet it's the joyful exuberance of boy band 5ive that steals the show, their likely lad banter and no nonsense approach an antidote to the incredibly intense members of B'witched in particular, struggling to control emotion and ego.
Even when perennial naysayer Sean appears close to the brink, band mate Abs comforts and cajoles him in a tender and quite touching manner.
So there we have it, pop and the avant garde stunned into an endearing, self knowing retrospect. I find myself looking in vain for some significance.
Is my love for Bowie, Suede and 5ive merely evidence of reaching an age of post modernist affection for the past twisted into a disappointment in the contemporary or simply that young artists are somehow no longer enabled or willing to commit to cultural revolution?
Political, social and economic circumstance wills that they should be surely? Or perhaps this current reality is in fact the norm? We've passed through so many iterations of popular music that the lines between the past and the future have been forever blurred?
The children of the revolution are now adults, yet are delightfully still hard wired to break for the corners of the envelope.
At thirty myself, I'm not sure whether I find this a comfort or a concern but then does it matter the age of those teetering on the edge of now? Why not grasp for another day in the sun if there happens to be one breaking around you?
After all, Suede's Brett Anderson sings, "When we touch we are young."
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