Way back in the day, I always rather liked Roxy Music.
Esp. the fluttery vibrato of Bryan Ferry's voice. My strongly held initial impression (never substantiated down the line) was that Ferry was both kidding and dead serious in every word and every note. However over the top his delivery, I always felt his life depended on everything he ever sang.
I've rarely if ever accomplished that balance of the ironic and the earnest.
Not only that, I'll turn things inside out.
I'll think weathered stone (or concrete) to be the most insubstantial of things.
And find in plastic, though faded and false from the start, the object of all human faith and yearning.
Or maybe the surface of anything viewed reflects the light we shine upon it.
Something like that.