Valentine’s Day can evoke a slew of emotions—regret, compassion, anticipation. This week’s edition of Auxtra Weekly explores them all, from intimacy let go too soon to love arriving right on time. Whether you’re listening alone or alongside your soulmate, there’s a song for all stages of adoration.
— Will Thomas

Scott Walker, the protean pop virtuoso, released his fourth studio album “Scott 4” in October 1969, and with it, a medley of introspective baroque pop ballads were introduced into the mosaic of the 60s soundscape, none more sonically realized than the record’s third track, “The World’s Strongest Man.”

We follow Walker in a state of aftermath. He’s left his lover, only to realize the gravity of his mistake. The morning he gazes upon receives agency and returns Walker’s glare with its hazy face, as if the image of his jilted lover dissolved and saturated the landscape–an omniscient visage he cannot escape despite efforts to fill his self-imposed void.

When the chorus arrives, Walker is quick to admit fault and demonstrate his fragile vulnerability. He’s weak in the face of his lover. Navigating the nuances of their relationship initially proved too difficult or frightening, so he pulled away–but given the chance, he won’t make the same mistake again.

To find that chance once more, Walker constructs Babel-adjacent towers, tributes to his lover that only solidify their divinity. Walker longs to return to his lover’s side, for the simple pleasures once taken for granted, for the assumed routine of love that’s often so easy to fall into, and he’ll throw himself upon the altar if it means he can catch a glimpse of his lover once more.

For fans of: David Bowie; Xiu Xiu; Leonard Cohen; P.J. Harvey

Love can cause crazy things, and Electrelane’s “Enter Laughing” is an ode to its absurdity.

Where does the line between changing for the better end and changing for the sake of change begin? How does one determine what’s worth compromising and what’s not? Does compromising for someone mean you’re compromising yourself?

Lead singer Verity Susman ruminates over these nagging questions. She wants to change, but external pressure is telling her otherwise. Instead of finding an answer, Susman acknowledges the question’s trap. There is no right or wrong answer, there is no truth or falsehood. Love is absurd, love is volatile, love is the antithesis of reason.

There comes a point when one assumes the language of love is universal, where wants and needs are left unsaid in virtue of some unspoken understanding. Complacency replaces proactivity, involuntarily or otherwise. Yet, the need to communicate never falters, only its perceived significance.

Susman’s lyrics give a glimpse into this line of thinking. She knows what she feels, and assumes her lover does too, but the things we want to say are often the hardest to share. She wants this person, but doesn’t want to make the first move. She waits, but it seems the object of her desire shares her trepidation to divulge their true feelings, leaving both in a state of emotional limbo.

The song ends with Susman’s realization of the situation’s irony. Both lovers waiting for the other to engage, forced to love statically, until the scales fall from Susman’s eyes and she realizes that her love must be pursued, not waited on.

For fans of: Broadcast; Yo La Tengo; Cate Le Bon

Despite never featuring on a full-length studio album, Rocketship’s “You Make Me Happy in My Sorrow” has come to represent the band’s delicate and nostalgic sound.

When you know, you know. A common saying when it comes to love, and it's the main mantra of the song. Without a point of reference, it's difficult to see what’s missing when it was never in your possession. But once it’s felt, few can return to the state of obliviousness.

Members Dustin Reske and Verna Brock create a vocal harmony brimming with chemistry and tenderness. They’re singing to one another, not at, and the listener almost feels as if they’re eavesdropping on a conversation they ought not to be.

A wistful violin hook is the song’s primary melody. Much like the love they share, the violin’s sound jumps from pleasant and sultry in moments of sweet reflection to delicate and fragile in quiet moments of intimacy. It requires care and nurture, it's never guaranteed, but the beauty is found in that uncertainty, taking that unknown step together with nothing but hope and faith in the person next to you.

For fans of: Starflyer 59; The Pains of Being Pure at Heart; Drop Nineteens