12. And What Shall We Call This? • Syntax of Paradox • For Him

*What remains when two men have survived every word the world has used to define, disguise or deny what exists between them? “And What Shall We Call This?”* closes WHO TAUGHT LOVE ITS NAME? by completing the philosophical circle that began with Track 01. The album opened by asking who taught love its name. The finale asks something more radical: does love actually require one? In this male-vocal “For Him” interpretation, the question carries the accumulated history of gay and queer male intimacy — friendship used as camouflage, desire made criminal or shameful, relationships rendered invisible, labels fought for because recognition mattered, and eventually the possibility of loving openly. The song does not reject those names. Names can save lives. They can build communities. They can correct history. They can let one man say to another: I exist. You exist. This happened. But Syntax of Paradox also asks what happens when the label becomes smaller than the life inside it. Across twelve tracks, the project has interrogated naming, surveillance, recognition, possession, duration, ageing, reciprocity, evidence, shame, visibility, courage and mortality. What survives every test is extraordinarily ordinary: a hand finding another hand. A room. A coat. A ridiculous lamp. A person staying. Perhaps that is why the final answer is deliberately modest. If language insists on having the last word: love will do. Weimar dark cabaret, intimate French chanson, crooked electro-Charleston and nocturnal French-house electronics close the project not with triumph, but with wit, tenderness and an open door. LYRICS And now— after twelve songs, several lovers, a few curtains, one questionable lamp, and rather too much philosophy - we arrive at the difficult part. What shall we call this? We tried “friendship.” A beautiful word. Though occasionally asked to perform rather more duties than intended. We tried “desire.” Accurate - but terribly impatient. We tried “devotion.” Too religious. “Affair.” Too French. Although I admit— promising. And what shall we call this? Your hand finding mine. Two lives for one moment forgetting the time. No law. No proof. No grand design. And what shall we call this? Must we? They have invented so many boxes. Husband. Wife. Correct. Incorrect. Forever. Tonight. Public. Private. His. Hers. Ours - provided the appropriate office has received the appropriate forms. Love has survived an astonishing amount of administration. But before the signature, before the ring, before somebody explained everything - you were cold. I gave you my coat. I was frightened. You stayed. You were laughing. I forgot to be ashamed. And something happened for which language arrived slightly late. And what shall we call this? Your breath beside mine. The ordinary miracle of somebody having time. No verdict. No category. No reason why. And what shall we call this? Darling— must we decide? Perhaps names are useful. They help us find each other. They help us fight. They help us say: I exist. You exist. This happened. But every name is also a little wall. And love— inconvenient creature - has always had a weakness for doors. I have loved what I was told not to love. I have loved too early. Too late. Alone. In return. Behind curtains. In daylight. For years. For one night. I have loved someone who stayed. Someone who left. Someone who never knew. And not one of these loves asked the others for permission to be real. Perhaps that is enough. Not because love conquers everything. It doesn't. History has made that painfully clear. Love loses. Love fails. Love arrives late. Love is frightened. Love buries people. Love survives people. Love sometimes does absolutely nothing except make one finite life matter terribly to another. And what shall we call this? A hand. A room. A light. Someone saying: “Stay.” Someone answering: “Tonight.” Call it foolish. Call it dangerous. Call it yours. Call it mine. Call it nothing. Call it everything. But if you absolutely require a word - love will do. After all - the heart has never been particularly impressed by vocabulary. And if anyone still objects - they may call it something else. Syntax of Paradox WHO TAUGHT LOVE ITS NAME? A Philosophical Electro-Cabaret in Twelve Questions Track 12 of 12 If two men know what they mean to each other, how much authority should anybody else's vocabulary really have? #SyntaxOfParadox #AndWhatShallWeCallThis #GayMusic #QueerMusic #DarkCabaret