Roused By Fear Of A Blank Planet

This album was a godsend. When I first heard it, eleven years ago, I was in the dumps — loved ones dead, family tectonics on the move, resentments bubbling up, old friends falling short, bluster and hot air — a hellhole in development, no end in sight. What to do, how to escape the vicious circle? Films and sports were a good escape, but they didn’t solve anything. Positive lit didn’t work — it was indistinguishable from hogwash, pap regurgitated in the face of reality to make believe life wasn’t as bad as it was. When everything collapses it’s hard to talk about the beauty of what’s to come.

But this album — rough, depressive, sharp as nails, uncompromising, true — was something else. Talk about resonance! Like medicine from another plane. Its truth shone darkly, inconvenient and unlaminated, pointing the way ahead. The feeling that others had gone through the same motions, to each their own, facing their own trials, sharing their narratives to remind others that no one’s alone, not even in isolation — what a kick!

This album, starting from the title and the cover art, all the way through to its music — six tracks on fire! a perfect album! — did wonders to my psychology. My recovery owes a lot to it.