It's love, if one is hit by a whole album already during the first hearing and the face is covered by a one-hour permanent grin. It's love, if one thinks in almost every song, 'That's it! That is the key piece to the album. Better, it may no longer be. It's love if one captures the album and song by song surprised because it makes far-ranging any genre assign clear, because it's loud and quiet, familiar and completely alien! It's love, if it moves you to tears. It's love, if it creates a mood that powerfully defiant clarifies: I live! It's love, if it allows headless good mood, even and especially because never everything is perfect. It's love if it makes almost a little sad when the last song fades away because it's over, and you know this> first time feeling is love when it radioed back well in the second and third and fourth and listening to very concrete suspects, even if there will be phases where you can not bring the disk for weeks off the shelf because other loved ones to come, even in years, you will be able to hear them again and again - and they love.
And heck, it's even more so love, if you have no problem with the board to buy twice because of beautiful pink colored double LP indeed accompanied by a CD, but without the four other songs of the deluxe CD edition, to be absolutely should not do without, because these inferior four other thirteen to nothing.
And all this because it is not only love, but because "The Truth About Love" is really good! Pink sets with this album raised the bar again a bit higher. Nobody brings kackfreche rowdiness and credible emotional so closely together as they - and they themselves never so much as on this album.
