That song’s about not having to deal with the real world by getting out of your mind. It’s saying, ‘you take your real world and I’ll just sit over here with me guitar and me absinthe, thanks.

There is a type of magic in making a decision. There is a lingering grief that rolls forward and backwards, with you, without you. A possibility of happy grief, if two words could ever not belong side-by-side. These two are that pair.

When you realize the next steps are sooner than you were ever prepared for. It still brings me a heavy sadness wrapped in warm contentment. Is it this painful for a butterfly or a phoenix?

For me, songs are like time capsules of emotion. I cannot, I will not listen to certain rhythms, lyrics or favourite songs unless in that state of emotion. Hearing a song from old important playlists is a time travel too fast for me to realize what position I placed myself in. Nostalgic, riveting, how could I forget this or that?

Apparently every time you access a memory you change it depending on your emotion at the time of accessing that library memory card again. You remember that birthday party sad, once again when you’re happy, again while angry. What details are reality? Your reality is real.

I do not pay attention to the lyrics of a song obsession until one day I have the courage to discover the answer, and then hits home hard. What does it mean to me? I do not know. Perhaps you can relate, perhaps not. Often enough songs of escapism, dreaminess, and ethereal tranquility are my chosen obsessions.

Absinthe is a special drink to me, it doesn’t belong in this reality. This universal peek into another life. The ritual of preparation, the journey into which it unfolds. What is it about ritual that is so profound?

This sugar cube means everything to me in this setting, not remotely the same as a sugar cube dropping into a cup of coffee. It’s cheap. What? This little styrofoam cup of coffee, and the tiny brown plastic stir-stick, that perfectly square too-small napkin, somehow ruins that same glorious precious sugar cube I once held in high regard for absinthe? Yes.

Okay, it’s contextual then. This same sugar cube is worthless, gross, meaningless in that work or conference setting. This same sugar cube is the precious stone of the earth, consenting to melting slowly, under the burning fire, to further enrich that glorious crystal glass of absinthe. God, those beautiful, green drops of ecstasy. In this very moment, that is how I feel and relate to regarding my industry. I have seen the same sweetness be degraded, beneath, forced, non-existent, objectified. She is worthless.

“Wow. You are so sweet.”

Is the insult. The sickness. The vile warning that you are about to be battered. Her choice of course, physical or emotional? Why did he even put that sugar in this cheap styrofoam cup of coffee? This sugar is useless. That same evening the same person sips the absinthe in crystal glass, after patiently waited for sweetness to melt. Respected the fire, gently gliding into the absinthe. Gentle into the poison. A choice. Without her, the drink is not the same. Without her, the entire experience is worthless. She is not worthless.

• The inspiration for this song came to Kasibian guitarist and lead songwriter Serge Pizzorno in the summer of 2009 when he found a £20,000 bottle of antique absinthe on a German website. He told Q magazine that it was the stuff that Hemingway and Piccaso used to drink, and though tempted, he eventually decided not to buy the vintage highly alcoholic beverage. The previous time he drank a lot of absinthe he nearly destroyed his relationship with his veterinary assistant girlfriend, Amy.

• Pizzorno described the song to Q: “It’s a psychedelic tune about those moments when you look around and think the dream is over, and the only thing left to do is pull out the absinthe and head for oblivion. The whole X Factor, celebrity culture thing. Dogs in handbags.”

• Absinthe is a distilled, highly alcoholic beverage, which achieved great popularity as an alcoholic drink in late 19th- and early 20th-century France. It was particularly associated with artists and writers, and may have provided a creative spark for their work. Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Vincent van Gogh and Oscar Wilde were all known drinkers. By 1915, absinthe had been banned in the United States and in most European countries. The song title comes from the fact that it traditionally has a natural green color and is commonly referred to in historical literature as “la fée verte” (the “green fairy” in French).

• The song originally appeared on the soundtrack for the 2010 William Monahan directed film London Boulevard. The version heard in the movie is different to the one on the album.

• Pizzorno explained the song’s meaning to Q magazine: That song’s about not having to deal with the real world by getting out of your mind. It’s saying, ‘you take your real world and I’ll just sit over here with me guitar and me absinthe, thanks.”

• Pizzorno told Q magazine: “There’s a few little private jokes in that song to some of my pals. The line, ‘I met Dali in the street.’ Dali is (English comedian) Noel Fielding. And he is the modern-day Dali. That man is a precious jewel.

La Free Verte – Kasabian