Before I begin the first review of shelf number two, I should offer a warning. I’m about to spend about a month reviewing albums by one of my favorite bands, Faith and the Muse. One of the things I love about this band is that they’re difficult to categorize in any specific genre. Many of the genres they’ve been pigeonholed into are not terribly familiar to me. I apoligize if I misapply some genre-specific terms in my attempts to describe this awesome music.
Annwyn, Beneath the Waves - Faith and the Muse
When I was about 14 or 15, I received a laptop for Christmas and for the first time accessed the Internet without fear of adult supervision or interference. Among other things, I used this newfound freedom... to discover indy music. One of the first songs I heard on some online radio station was “Cantus” by Faith and the Muse. That and another song, “Cernunnos”, persuaded me to order a copy of the album containing both.
“Cantus” is a track that recognizes that a lot of goth or trance music sounds more awesome when it incorporates driving, primal drumbeat and ominous Latin chanting, perhaps with an atmospheric string accompanyment, then goes ahead and makes a whole song based on those elements. The result is an aurally-administered dose of pure adrenaline. Although it makes a good background noise, surprisingly it also stands up to attentive listening as a piece of music in its own right.
Faith and the Muse is a genre-defying band whose style fits well with goth, trance or metal aesthetics, and which hunts for inspiration in ancient mythologies and modern Pagan spirituality. This combination of old and new themes often means incorporating folk instruments and styles alongside modern electronic sounds. Annwyn, Beneath the Waves is a concept album specifically exploring Celtic myths and legends, and their place in the modern world. Many of the songs, such as “Dream of Macson” and “Branwen Slayne”, are theatrical tellings of folk tales. These old-style pieces are interwoven seamlessly with rock ballads in a dark and industrial style, with the two extremes sometimes overlapping in a single song. What should be an odd juxtaposition seems instead a powerful synthesis that empowers each to transcend expectations.
In my opinion, this synthesis is no better demonstrated than in “Cernunnos”, a modern-style dark gothic ballad whose lyrics are written from the perspective of the Celtic god of the same name. But rather than telling some ancient myth about him, it tells a newer story of the old god’s power being supplanted and co-opted by “new gods”, “new ways”, just as the pagan faiths that once dominated Europe have been swept aside in favor of monotheistic or atheistic worldviews. Cernunnos in the song is positively dripping with rage at this loss, building up to a discordant climax of sound before ending the song with a beautifully, spitefully sarcastic “Blessed be!”
Some of my favorite tracks on the album have a very ancient, even primal feel to them, such as “Arianrhod”, which like “Cantus” centers on complex drumming and vocals, although in this case the vocals are nonverbal and thus give an impression of uncivilized, purely emotional energy. I’m less interested in the more ostensibly modern rock songs such as “Rise and Forget” and “Annwyn, Beneath the Waves” (the title song). I prefer the ones that somehow mix old and new styles, such as “The Silver Circle,” which has a totally bitchin’ dulcimer solo.
I do not feel that I’ve done this album justice in this review so far. It’s one of those albums you can just throw on and listen through, and dream your way into a faraway land of epic landscapes and tragic heroes. But more than that, it’s the album that introduced me to one of my favorite bands of all time. I’m tempted to say something like “Just listen to it, and you’ll understand what I mean,” but I know it’s not true. You may listen, and may even be inspired as much as I have, but not in the same way that I have. And actually, that does not bother me. I have no need to pass my excitement on to others in exactly the same form. I am content... I am satisfied... just listening. That’s how much I love this album.
Next: Vera Causa
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Monday, January 19, 2015
All My CDs, pt 39: The Open Door
The Open Door - Evanescence
The year I began college, I thought myself mostly "grown out of" what I saw as childish melodrama, and had lost some of my esteem for Evanescence. But then a friend who was also a fan of the group rekindled my interest, and alerted me to the existence of a newer album, The Open Door. Shortly thereafter I experienced my first heartbreak, and was back to unironically appreciating the fine craft of musical despair. Old habits die hard, and seldom remain interred.
It's a bit of a shame that the album wasn't as popular, because in my opinion it is much better, and serves an interesting narrative function. If Fallen was ostensibly a concept album about adolescent mental illness, The Open Door is about finally beginning to see the light of recovery. Illustrating this thesis, it opens with the lines:
It's true, we're all a little insane
But it's all clear now that I'm unchained...
Fear is only in our minds
But it's taking over all the time
The rest of the album is along similar lines, portraying the road to functionality as not lined with rose petals and sunshine, but nonetheless enlightening and empowering. The songs begin to track down sources for the mind-destroying pain, some of which are not only external, but conquerable. In contrast to the self-debasement inherent in depression, Call Me When You're Sober is brimming over with self-confidence, and describes the narrator's power to leave behind a relationship that she knows is hurtful and unproductive - rather than remaining helplessly codependent. The song even ends with a little self-assured giggle.
The song Lithium, named for a common drug used to treat bipolar disorder, describes a dimension of recovery not universally experienced, but perhaps most common among adolescent sufferers: reluctance to let go of the pain. Adolescence is when many people begin forming a sense of personal identity, and if that identity includes a mental disorder, treatment could mean a fundamental change and a loss of one's true self. When I was in high school, a friend urged me not to take medications, saying "You'll become a different person". But treatment is also hope for a less painful existence. The song describes that dilemma perfectly:
Lithium
Don't want to lock me up inside
Lithium
Don't want to forget how it feels without
Lithium
I want to stay in love with my sorrow
oh, but God, I want to let it go.
Other songs dwell further on themes of grief and despair, but All that I'm Living For and The Only One express more hope and reassurance. Finally, the album ends on what might possibly be called a positive note. The song Good Enough is a simple melodic voice-and-piano piece with light string accompaniment, as opposed to the grand orchestrations and rock instrumentation previously employed, giving the impression of startling calm after a long and violent storm. The lyrics describe a simple but life-altering experience that one may have upon emerging from a long depression: suddenly seeing good in one's life and in one's self. For many this is no difficult thing, but for some, it is vitally significant. You are good enough to be loved.
End of Shelf One
I’ll be taking a short break from writing music reviews now that I’ve gotten to the end of the first shelf, but there shouldn’t be a break in the actual posting online of new reviews because I’ve got a healthy-sized buffer built up.
I can’t say that this project has been easy for me so far. I’ve gone from never having written a music review in my life, and having the loosest notion of what one might actually look like, to writing one or two per week for several months. I don’t always enjoy doing it, and I’m not convinced I do it very well. But I’ve achieved at least part of my stated goal: I’ve paid attention to, and regained an appreciation for, several albums that I’ve neglected. I’ve also seriously evaluated some newer ones that weren’t as familiar to me. I’m looking forward to learning what waits in the second shelf of my collection.
Next: Annwyn, Beneath The Waves
The year I began college, I thought myself mostly "grown out of" what I saw as childish melodrama, and had lost some of my esteem for Evanescence. But then a friend who was also a fan of the group rekindled my interest, and alerted me to the existence of a newer album, The Open Door. Shortly thereafter I experienced my first heartbreak, and was back to unironically appreciating the fine craft of musical despair. Old habits die hard, and seldom remain interred.
It's a bit of a shame that the album wasn't as popular, because in my opinion it is much better, and serves an interesting narrative function. If Fallen was ostensibly a concept album about adolescent mental illness, The Open Door is about finally beginning to see the light of recovery. Illustrating this thesis, it opens with the lines:
It's true, we're all a little insane
But it's all clear now that I'm unchained...
Fear is only in our minds
But it's taking over all the time
The rest of the album is along similar lines, portraying the road to functionality as not lined with rose petals and sunshine, but nonetheless enlightening and empowering. The songs begin to track down sources for the mind-destroying pain, some of which are not only external, but conquerable. In contrast to the self-debasement inherent in depression, Call Me When You're Sober is brimming over with self-confidence, and describes the narrator's power to leave behind a relationship that she knows is hurtful and unproductive - rather than remaining helplessly codependent. The song even ends with a little self-assured giggle.
The song Lithium, named for a common drug used to treat bipolar disorder, describes a dimension of recovery not universally experienced, but perhaps most common among adolescent sufferers: reluctance to let go of the pain. Adolescence is when many people begin forming a sense of personal identity, and if that identity includes a mental disorder, treatment could mean a fundamental change and a loss of one's true self. When I was in high school, a friend urged me not to take medications, saying "You'll become a different person". But treatment is also hope for a less painful existence. The song describes that dilemma perfectly:
Lithium
Don't want to lock me up inside
Lithium
Don't want to forget how it feels without
Lithium
I want to stay in love with my sorrow
oh, but God, I want to let it go.
Other songs dwell further on themes of grief and despair, but All that I'm Living For and The Only One express more hope and reassurance. Finally, the album ends on what might possibly be called a positive note. The song Good Enough is a simple melodic voice-and-piano piece with light string accompaniment, as opposed to the grand orchestrations and rock instrumentation previously employed, giving the impression of startling calm after a long and violent storm. The lyrics describe a simple but life-altering experience that one may have upon emerging from a long depression: suddenly seeing good in one's life and in one's self. For many this is no difficult thing, but for some, it is vitally significant. You are good enough to be loved.
End of Shelf One
I’ll be taking a short break from writing music reviews now that I’ve gotten to the end of the first shelf, but there shouldn’t be a break in the actual posting online of new reviews because I’ve got a healthy-sized buffer built up.
I can’t say that this project has been easy for me so far. I’ve gone from never having written a music review in my life, and having the loosest notion of what one might actually look like, to writing one or two per week for several months. I don’t always enjoy doing it, and I’m not convinced I do it very well. But I’ve achieved at least part of my stated goal: I’ve paid attention to, and regained an appreciation for, several albums that I’ve neglected. I’ve also seriously evaluated some newer ones that weren’t as familiar to me. I’m looking forward to learning what waits in the second shelf of my collection.
Next: Annwyn, Beneath The Waves
Monday, January 12, 2015
All My CDs, pt 38: Fallen
Fallen - Evanescence
For a brief period during my teens, my family had cable and VH1 played music videos for an hour before school started. There are a small number of pop songs that have the distinction of having been released during that time, and thus are the only songs I've seen videos of. Bring Me To Life by Evanescence is one of them. I, like many teenagers suffering from periodic depression, was attracted to extreme displays of melancholy, so I was of course attracted to the agony-ridden lyrics and desolate imagery in the Bring Me To Life video (featuring the lead singer dangling off the side of a building). So I got the album, Fallen, and proceeded to annoy my family with it.
One of my father's first observations was that all the songs sound the same, and he was correct. Every song on this album is also about the same sorts of things: despair, deep spiritual and emotional suffering, and the desperation to sacrifice anything to end that suffering. Everybody's Fool is the only song that identifies an external source for the bad feelings it expresses, in the person of a manipulative and deceitful queen-bee type. All the others strongly imply an inner source of turmoil, which in turn implies a struggle with mental illness. It's the perfect album for a depressed adolescent to obsess over.
But it's not just the lyrics that make this music especially cathartic in a pure and addictive way. The music itself employs hard-rock instrumentation, orchestral interludes, and even a segment of latin chanting to give an individual, mental crisis a sense of grand scale and importance. Until that point, many mental health issues were minimized and derided as "only in one's head", and an implicit acknowledgement that these issues are both real and life-threatening was novel at the time. In more recent years, media attention to the threats of mental illness especially to adolescents has made progress, but there is still much that needs to change. Music like this is probably doing more good than harm, despite its tendency toward tiresome, formulaic melodrama. So I tend to enjoy it, even now that I am older, healthier, and have slightly more nuanced (even hipsterish) tastes.
A groundbreaking approach to the portrayal of mental illness may not have been the band's original intention, by the way. It's often circulated as a "shocking but true fact" that Evanescence got their start as a Christian rock band. I did not find this shocking. I had noticed almost right away that Tourniquet contained lines like "my soul cries for deliverance," and references to salvation and even "Christ". In several songs it is easy to interpret the source of intense inner suffering not as mental illness, but sin and damnation. But I am not a Christian, and I do deal with mental illness issues, so I like my interpretation better.
Next: The Open Door
And: The End of Shelf One
For a brief period during my teens, my family had cable and VH1 played music videos for an hour before school started. There are a small number of pop songs that have the distinction of having been released during that time, and thus are the only songs I've seen videos of. Bring Me To Life by Evanescence is one of them. I, like many teenagers suffering from periodic depression, was attracted to extreme displays of melancholy, so I was of course attracted to the agony-ridden lyrics and desolate imagery in the Bring Me To Life video (featuring the lead singer dangling off the side of a building). So I got the album, Fallen, and proceeded to annoy my family with it.
One of my father's first observations was that all the songs sound the same, and he was correct. Every song on this album is also about the same sorts of things: despair, deep spiritual and emotional suffering, and the desperation to sacrifice anything to end that suffering. Everybody's Fool is the only song that identifies an external source for the bad feelings it expresses, in the person of a manipulative and deceitful queen-bee type. All the others strongly imply an inner source of turmoil, which in turn implies a struggle with mental illness. It's the perfect album for a depressed adolescent to obsess over.
But it's not just the lyrics that make this music especially cathartic in a pure and addictive way. The music itself employs hard-rock instrumentation, orchestral interludes, and even a segment of latin chanting to give an individual, mental crisis a sense of grand scale and importance. Until that point, many mental health issues were minimized and derided as "only in one's head", and an implicit acknowledgement that these issues are both real and life-threatening was novel at the time. In more recent years, media attention to the threats of mental illness especially to adolescents has made progress, but there is still much that needs to change. Music like this is probably doing more good than harm, despite its tendency toward tiresome, formulaic melodrama. So I tend to enjoy it, even now that I am older, healthier, and have slightly more nuanced (even hipsterish) tastes.
A groundbreaking approach to the portrayal of mental illness may not have been the band's original intention, by the way. It's often circulated as a "shocking but true fact" that Evanescence got their start as a Christian rock band. I did not find this shocking. I had noticed almost right away that Tourniquet contained lines like "my soul cries for deliverance," and references to salvation and even "Christ". In several songs it is easy to interpret the source of intense inner suffering not as mental illness, but sin and damnation. But I am not a Christian, and I do deal with mental illness issues, so I like my interpretation better.
Next: The Open Door
And: The End of Shelf One
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