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Four Versions of One Wound, One Unforgettable Song

 

A large outdoor billboard against a twilight sky announces the new music release “Lovely Bird Four Skies” by Ali Taha Alnobani. The poster features a cinematic, moody street scene with two figures — a man exhaling smoke and a woman standing near an old TV set covered in snow. Neon pink light glows behind them, reflecting on wet pavement scattered with autumn leaves. The text lists four versions of the song: “Lovely Bird (Sold) — In Smoke,” “In Gold,” “In Silence,” and “In Winter.” Below, it reads “Lovely Bird (Sold): Four melodies 2025.” At the bottom, logos for Spotify, Apple Music, YouTube, and DistroKid indicate where the release is available. The billboard stands on a metal pole against a gradient sunset sky.

"Lovely Bird (Sold)" – Four Versions of One Wound, One Unforgettable Song

 

Can the same lyrics be sung in four different ways—and each time feel like you’re hearing them for the very first time? That’s exactly what artist Ali Taha Alnobani achieves with his new release, "Lovely Bird (Sold)"—a singular work unlike any conventional album, more akin to a journey through an emotional wound that reappears in multiple guises.


The song itself—a poignant poem about lost love turned into a commodity—is presented through four distinct musical arrangements, each carrying its own unique “spirit.” The words remain the same, the imagery unchanged: the lovely bird sold for a chain of gold, the empty swing, the receipt that replaced wings, and the cashier’s cold laugh as winter swallows the last photograph. Yet each version drapes these words in a different sonic fabric—sometimes quiet as a midnight whisper, sometimes charged with tension, and sometimes like a mournful hymn echoing from inside an empty bottle.




What sets this work apart is its unforced emotional honesty. No exaggeration, no false drama—just simple moments heavy with loss: fingernails tapping on glass, breath turning to smoke, words swallowed because they taste like rust. And in the bridge, the line that says it all:

“Love’s not alive—it’s currency.”

Perhaps that’s why Alnobani felt this story couldn’t be confined to a single melody. Because grief can’t be reduced to one note. As he wrote: “Love, or loss, can never be captured by a single tune.”

If you’re drawn to music that touches the soul—music that leaves you staring at the ceiling long after it ends, wondering, “Have I ever lost a bird like this?”—then listen to "Lovely Bird (Sold)" now on Bandcamp.

You might just find, in one of its four skies, an echo of something you’ve lost… or sold without even realizing it.





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