Singles Roundup: Taylor Acorn, Graveyard, & Undefeated

This week, we have a pair of important songs to talk about, albeit with very different effects on me. Let's dive in. 

Taylor Acorn - Isn't It Strange

I hate that this song represents what it does. "Poster Child" was my AOTY last year, and while it doesn't come from that record, "Birds Still Sing" might be the most played and most important song of this year. So why do I hate this? As I look over to my shelf, I see my copy of "Poster Child" sitting there, and Taylor Acorn is making me feel stupid for saying that. She is now on a growing list of artists who have pissed me off by selling me an album I love, and then turning around later and telling me there's now a deluxe version that includes a few bonus tracks that easily could have fit on the original version, and I either have to buy another version or use a streaming service to get the full experience instead of the product YOU F'N SOLD ME. We talk about the music 'business', and it's things like this that have led to its decline. People don't like being gouged, or treated like ATMs, and this is the sort of behavior that leads to enmity. Just out of principle, I'm starting off in a bad mood.

That bad mood extends to the song itself, which is a perfectly lovely tune that does everything I love about Taylor's music, but is framed with a rosy happiness that belies everything her music has meant to me. Rather than being the outcast, the misunderstood, the one who is the 'poster child for screwing everything up', this song is about the wonder of meeting the person who makes you believe in love. Well... that's never happened to me, and the happiness of others does hurt as I'm still in the stage of trying not to think the worst of myself that "Birds Still Sing" encompasses. The song doesn't fit in with the themes of "Poster Child", which makes it an odd choice to include packaged with the album.

"Isn't it crazy?," Taylor asks during the chorus of the song. Yes, this whole experience is a bit crazy. Oh, she meant the odds of finding love. Sure, that's crazy too, if you believe in the concept. I'm not sure I do, and every time I get my hopes up even in the non-romantic ways, something comes along to remind me how stupid I am. Case in point.

Graveyard - A Means To An End

Over the last couple of albums, Graveyard has seemed to be searching for something. They became more blunt on "Peace", then more contemplative on "6", and now the wandering seems to have taken them full circle. They are talking of their upcoming album as being more of a return to their early sound, which could be taken two different ways. You could view it as a welcome embrace of their best era, or you could view it as an admission the detours did not take them where they wanted to go. I'm choosing to focus on the former, as I consider those first three albums to be head-and-shoulders above the following three, but that might just be my opinion.

The first song from this new album is here, and it is what we were promised. The somber melancholy of "6" is replaced with an old-school groove, and guitars built from vintage fuzz. They can't quite recapture the crackle of that first album, but the sound is both old-school, and old-school Graveyard. From a pure sonic perspective, Graveyard sounds like themselves once again, and that is a glorious thing to hear.

The beauty of Graveyard has always been in their simplicity, their ability to take a few strummed chords and need nothing else to make their point. They do that on this song, with the stomping groove carrying Joakim's gritty vocals through the verses, before the chorus finds the perfect balance between hitting a memorable series of notes and barely sounding like a chorus. It's a subtle effect, and what it does is make Graveyard's music feel like you are unearthing a relic when the best parts find their way into your mind. This is the Graveyard I love, and perhaps this means we've circled around enough that we are in the same place once again.

Undefeated - Fate Has Her Favorites

As it gets harder, and more cost-prohibitive, to record larger batches of songs, we've seen a steady rise in bands putting out strings of singles instead. Undefeated has been in that mode, with this latest song being the first time they have come to my attention. They are a case study in both the good and the bad of the current musical ecosystem.

The good is clearly found in their music, where they manage to blend surprisingly heavy guitars with bright and infectious melodies. Whether you want to call this extremely melodic near metal, or extremely metallic melodic rock, the mix is one that works wonderfully. The breakdown hits even harder because the song was not tipping its hand in that direction,  and the final chorus sounds even sweeter after we get hit with the crushing groove. It's a great song that could wind up on my list of the best songs of the year when all is said and done..

The only problem is that it leaves me wanting more, and wanting to know if this is a harbinger of a band finding their stride. We will have to wait for that answer, and if you're anything like me, waiting means things can get lost in the constant flood of information.

Album Review: Cancer Bats - Give Me Dirt

Cancer Bats seems like one of those bands who is perpetually in the youth of their career.  It’s something to do with the vitality of their sound, as well as their chosen genre.  Hardcore has a flair for sounding young by itself, and there’s an intrinsic quality to Liam Cormier’s vocals that denies the natural effect of aging.

It’s easy to forget then, that the band’s new album, Give Me Dirt, marks the twentieth anniversary of their debut record.  Which is worth mentioning in this context - as raw as Cancer Bats can often sound, there is no doubt that it is intentional; the grit and visible seams and loose ends are intentional and by design.  It’s impossible to have lasted this long and have that not be the case, and an equally notable feat to sound so brash and tread the line of noise without descending into madness.

That does not mean however, that the Bats (may we call them simply the Bats?) haven’t fine tuned or evolved.  Every album since 2012’s excellent Dead Set on Living has worked to refine the band’s signature chaos and come up with new and novel ways to craft great hooks while staying true to their hardcore roots.  It hasn’t always worked - Searching for Zero was something of a mess - but by and large the Bats have always found a way to keep themselves relevant and fresh by incorporating rock grooves into their sound.

Moreover, the veteran Torontoans have taken from their own previous experiments and combined that knowledge into this new record.  To hear “Ocean Crash” is to see a possible evolution of the slow thump that made the previous album’s “Hammering On” work so beautifully.  

As ever, what really makes the Bats stand out from their contemporaries in the hardcore scene is their invocation of the big, hook-laden rock and roll riff.  The spindly, groovy opening of “Long Tooth” is the same kind of sensibility that made most of the album The Spark That Moves such an automatic classic.  There are few artists who better understand that a big chorus and a memorable hook can connect disparate pieces of almost any composition.

That doesn’t mean that Cancer Bats can’t still hammer with the best of them.  Album closer “Fools Like You” is a ready-built, down-and-dirty hardcore banger that feels at home on the album, but also would be just as comfortable in the dirty, street-corner clubs of Brooklyn back in the ‘90s.

Now, there is a dark cloud over all of this.  As good as Give Me Dirt is, and it is, it seems very familiar.  As evidenced by what’s been said so far in this piece, the band is at their best when they sound like themselves on previous efforts.  It’s not unfair to say that Give Me Dirt is an amalgam of Dead Set on Living and Psychic Jailbreak and in so doing, this album lacks the pure visceral nastiness of the former and the refined exploration (such as one can have in hardcore) of the latter.  That’s not wholly a death sentence - but it does imply two potentially damaging things.  First, that in an effort to cannibalize their lessons and synthesize new avenues, the band has trimmed off too much of their edge and possibly done some regression to the mean.  Second and more concerning is the possibility that after twenty years the Bats have hit their creative limit.  It’s much too soon to make that judgement now - after all, Searching For Zero was a dud, but they followed it up with their best album in The Spark That Moves.

Anyway, don’t get too carried away here.  Give Me Dirt is good.  Really good.  For longtime fans though, it may be hard to escape the feeling that this record has been heard before.

Album Review: Street Tombs - Existence is Corruption

This’ll be pretty quick.  Let’s not try to complicate this and make Street Tombs’ new album Existence Is Corruption something that it isn’t.

Have you ever enjoyed Goatwhore?  Or Venom?  Or Celtic Frost?  Or Darkthrone?  If you’re nodding your head vigorously (especially if your neck hurts while doing so,) you’ve come to the right place.

Listen, that might sound like an oversimplification, but really, Existence Is Corruption doesn’t need to be more than that.  There will always be a place in the crowded, gore-addled metal landscape for a band to remind us all of the days gone by in a fresh way, thumping out old-school death with a grimacing sneer and a bunch of stringy black hair and leather jackets.  It’s part of the collective musical DNA of the genre and appeals at the most primordial, instinctive level.

Especially when the artist crafting the tunes is so evidently good at it.  Street Tombs excels at knowing all the proper beats of how to write music in this vein, and the band is tight in their recitation.  It’s hard not to grin at the single “Deceptor,” which provides us with grim tones, yes, but also an accessible riff that’s easy to bop along to (as much as one can be said to ‘bop’ to music in this stripe.)  

Everywhere you turn, the record offers four-minute chunks of fun death metal, chugging along with broken-glass guitars and the usual growled missives about the futility of the human condition.  Real old-home-week kind of stuff, and that’s meant as a compliment. Best of all, unlike so many albums in this particular splinter, Existence is Corruption doesn’t sound like it was recorded in the back of a garbage truck.

(There is also, in all the guitar solos, just the barest hint of an East Bay Ray guitar tone, which sounds like it would be out of place, but works surprisingly well here.)

There is a…oneness…to the sound of the album.  Which is to say, in a blindfold test, it would be hard to identify one song from another, and the tone and pacing of the record never changes in a tangible fashion.  In a paradoxical way, that makes the record really fit for leaving on while doing office work (try it and see!) as it provides excellent, high-octane but not overbearing music to set your rhythm to.

As stated at the top though, don’t make this record something it doesn’t need to be.  Street Tombs knows what band they want to be.  They’ve recorded an(other) album that illustrates that point.  Relax and just enjoy the album for the simple joy of it.

Album Review: Weezer - The Gold Album

Most of us probably have a scar somewhere on our body that reminds us of a time when we were young and stupid, perhaps that reminds us of a specific decision we made that we regretted as soon as the blood started to seep out. In musical terms, Weezer is one of those scars. There was a time when Weezer was maybe the most important band in my life. I was listening to those first four albums a ton, and I made what were at the time essential friendships on a Weezer message board. I needed Weezer back then, but that is a chapter that has come and gone in my life. Sadly, unlike my high school class that couldn't organize a way to wipe their own asses, Weezer calls us to reunions every year or two, which only serves to remind me of how much we can love and hate the past at the same time

For this latest album, Weezer is once again in nostalgic mode, trying and failing to recreate the sound that made them famous. They do this every so often, seemingly unaware that even with the same production choices, they cannot play or sing like the people they no longer are. Rivers at his age can no more pretend to be the literary misanthrope who was glued to the metaphorical wall any more than the high school quarterback acting like a big shot at the reunion when the only thing his arm has been used for over the last twenty years is pleasuring himself.

We heard this when "Shine Again" was released as a single, with it's fuzzy guitar stabs sounding like a return to "Beverly Hills", and Rivers' unique ability to sound out-of-tune while I'm sure actually hitting the note he's going for. It was a song that showed Weezer trying to sound gritty again, but with a song that was soulless enough the grit felt like applying makeup to trick people into thinking you have a black eye.

Then "We Might As Well Be Strangers" is unique for being a Weezer duet, but has to be noted sounds as if it was borrowing some melodic contour from a song off "Make Believe", which until Weezer dug an even deeper hole for themselves was considered their worst album. These are not the reminders you want to be giving your fans. Nor was "C.E.O.", which ruins everything we ever loved about "Undone" by borrowing the sonic palate and the spoken word-ness of it, turning it into a meditation on Weezer recycling their own past. It isn't a 'meta' song so much as an admission Weezer knows they haven't made, and cannot make, anything that endured with the audience since about 2001. Rivers admits he's going through the motions of recreating the past, which is honest, but also a complete charade. We should not be applauding him for pandering to the audience if it isn't what he has his heart set on, although it's hard to tell what Rivers is actually passionate about, considering the passionless way he usually sings.

This record wants to be a new "Pinkerton". The guitars are crusty in the same way, and when Rivers starts singing about being gaslit, it has echoes of his pleas to turn a lesbian straight so someone would fuck him. In this case, he is the victim of the psychological warfare, but his ultimate message to give in and "say yes" is the worst thing he could say. The song is basically a declaration that he doesn't want to be in Weezer anymore, but the audience and the reaction more or less forces him to continue on. That explains a lot, doesn't it?

The bullshit continues when Rivers starts to sing in "Hoops" about having to scan a QR code to buy a toaster. It's not a compelling topic for a song, and it's written without an ounce of interesting perspective. Rivers is once again at his worst as a lyricist throughout the record, whether it's this or when he mentions how his mother told him to comb his hair. It's all trite nonsense that gets in the way of saying something that actually matters. I know no one turns to Weezer for insight on the human condition, but there's no way to relate to lyrics that are this vapid, sung by a voice that sounds absurd when trying to inject emotion. This is very much taking the old adage about someone singing the phone book as a challenge. Rivers throws words together, but they don't form songs that have meaning. It's very much the same as when he wrote "Where's My Sex" based on a mispronunciation by his kid. It might be an amusing slip of the tongue in the moment, but that's not enough to write an entire song around.

But I knew all of this before I ever listened to a note of this album. Weezer has been terrible since at least "The Red Album", and the periodic check-ins with them have less to do with seeing if they will ever improve, and more to do with me checking myself for early-onset senility. The day I start to like new Weezer music again, I will know my brain fog is something to be concerned with, and not merely an artifact of depression.

What Weezer prove every time they release one of these records is that life is not like school, and you can write a failing grade in any color. I appreciate the nostalgia of the production (even if the actual grittiness of this one is like a ChatGPT recreation of "Pinkerton"), and this might be the best melodic writing Rivers has done in quite a while, but as an album I still find myself thinking it would say something about myself I wouldn't like if I told you I enjoyed this album. It's an improvement, but that doesn't make it good. Maybe in 1998 when we were all still young and stupid, but not now, not when we're all as old or older than our heroes were when we first called them washed up.

Quick Reviews: The Beautiful Monument, The Iron Roses, & Sarah And The Safe Word

We haven't done a quick round-robin in a while, and recent weeks have gives us three albums that broke up the rather humdrum release schedule. Why pick just one to cover, when I can get to all three of them?

The Beautiful Monument - Euphoric Thriller

There was a period of time when female-fronted rock/emo/post-hardcore bands seemed like they were popping up everywhere. I liked a number of them, but few have managed to keep up the momentum those early impressions created. Among them, The Beautiful Monument was one of the bands that slipped through my mind much of the time, despite their first album being a fine example of why I was seeking out bands like them. Album number two has the difficult task of not only following up a good one, but also having to be a reintroduction, simply based on how much music I hear and how much of it gets lost in the shuffle.

Over a brief thirty-one minutes, the band dips their toes into modern electro-pop sounds, with several bits that feel ripped from Billie Eilish's oeuvre, which unfortunately is not what I want to hear. Many of these songs bog down through verses with bass and electronics, and little energy to propel them towards the choruses. Those hooks also feel more static, and less lively than before. All of that gives the impression of a band that is trying to skew to a younger audience, who is not me, so this is definitely not going to be speaking to me in the same way.

The Iron Roses - Molotov Nights

It takes a lot for a punk record to make an impression on me, but the debut from The Iron Roses did just that. It was an album that spoke political truth, but did so with an intriguing blend of dual vocals that is rare to hear in any form of rock. That was the highlight of the album, but it was a record that brought the catchy melodies needed to keep the message echoing through our heads. In the back of my mind, I was going to be interested to hear how they followed that up.

Over an even briefer twenty-three minutes, the band wastes little time getting straight to the point. They hit the chords hard, aiming for the hook from the get-go. Unfortunately, this batch of songs didn't hit me as immediately as their previous album. There's understandably more anger this time around, but that works against them, as the interplay of vocals and melodies that made them so appealing is tamped down a bit this time, as the songs almost rush through before there's enough time for the choruses to unfold as they need to. There's also a bit of an issue with the mixing, where the dual vocals aren't always balanced, or audible, enough for that layering to be as effective as I would like.

Sarah And The Safe Word - The Disappearing Girl

The band's previous album made my year-end list, which should have given me cause for excitement this time around. In the meantime, there were a couple of one-off singles from the band and from Sarah Rose, none of which hit me with the same level of surprise and fun as my first experience with the band. I wasn't sure if their 'cabaret emo' was a one-off experiment that caught me at just the right time, or if it merely didn't work in shorter doses where I can't fully slip into character. Now I know the answer.

Over another brief thirty-three minutes, Sarah gives us a set of songs about the struggle of reinventing yourself. The band's cabaret stylings are evident, even as much of the record feels more aggressive than before. The guitars are pushed forward, the violins sitting lower in the mix, replaced in some places with extra sound effects. That tells the story, but I do think a bit of what makes the band unique gets pushed down when the violin and throwback swing is more of a background element to the proceedings. Whether we call this record more focused, or more narrow in scope, "The Book Of Broken Glass" felt like more of a journey we were being taken on. This one is more like a chapter than an entire play, giving me the impression there's 'more' that isn't being said just yet. What is being said is good, and this is clearly the best of the three albums we're talking about today. If it's not as good as "The Book Of Broken Glass", it isn't missing by much.

Album Review: Adam Jensen - Hymns For The Damned

"I hate myself," Adam Jensen sings before the chorus in the opening song, "Cellophane". It's a bold statement to make on the first song of your debut record, which if you're like me is the first time you've heard anything from him. To set the stage of your record as being one of working through your self-loathing, you're telling the audience that this is not a record traveling down the arc toward the end of a rainbow. We're going to be digging further into our psyches, not our bag of self-deluding tricks.

The soundtrack to these thoughts is not of the more predictable, gothic sort. There is no gloomy melancholy of shimmering darkness, but rather a sound I would describe most accurately as 'grungy power-pop'. The guitars bristle with a thick fuzz of distortion, but the songs settle into catchy melodies that turn this record into, if you pardon the pun, fitting music for a pity party. There is an almost upbeat sense of fun to the suffering contained in many of the songs, which is something you can only understand if you are of a certain mental disposition.

"All my friends are dead or in my head," he sings on the second track. Most people have no idea what that feeling, metaphorically speaking, is like. I am one of those that does, and the spirit of that song carries a lot of weight with me. The mere act of writing these words is in a way proof of that, as I am more or less talking to myself about all of this. We who are so afflicted either write songs that become like friends, or we write characters that stand in for the people who are no longer around. I was recently commenting to someone that characters from sitcoms are a more constant presence in my life than most of the people I've ever known, so I understand where Adam is coming from.

As the record continues on, I'm torn on whether it more resembles Andrew WK's party rock filtered through the misery of we who possess social idiocy, or if it is the ultra pop-ified version of Nirvana that Kurt Cobain was fighting to prevent. When "Champagne Vein" opens with a riff that sounds like an inverted "Smells Like Teen Spirit", that connection was impossible for my brain not to grab hold of. In either event, there's something unique about this record that is hard to explain to people who don't see the world the same way.

Perhaps the best way is to say that with Adam's voice resembling that of Ryan Adams, this record is what Ryan's attempts at rock and roll would have been if he thought himself to be a piece of shit, rather than him being the only one who didn't realize it.

One of the interesting aspects of this record is that with so much fuzz on the guitars, this is a record where fidelity doesn't matter much. Listening to a pristine stream is powerful, but there's a gritty realism if the quality isn't quite there. It's almost like watching a restored version of an old movie, enjoying all that you couldn't see in the version you grew up watching, but still finding comfort the experience of the blur.

There has been a bit of a theme this year where my favorite albums have been dealing with how we process and persevere through the difficult times that are difficult to get out of our heads. We can be our own worst enemy, and often we think what Adam sings on "I Will Only Bring You Down". This record is not going to be for people who are happy, or who only want to be exposed to positivity. This record is thirty-three minutes of self-reflection that doesn't try to paint over the fact that things are not always what we want them to be.

But if you're one of those people who remembers all of the bad times more vividly than the good ones, why not remember them in the form of some memorable rock songs?

Album Review: Coyote Man - "Prosthetic Memories"

There’s a whole bunch of music exploding out of Chicagoland lately, up to and including our previous review of the Afrofuturistics.  One can only hope that there will be more and more, and that this becomes a new developmental scene, the like of which we’ve not had since the eruption of Montreal, circa 2009.  

As for Coyote Man, the (largely) instrumental power prior from the Windy City, they’ve dropped their new full-length on the world, Prosthetic Memories. It promises to carry the freight for artistically-leaning instru-metal through a combination of creative blending and well-practiced sensibilities.

Cutting to the quick, I wish there was more to this record.  To come to the band’s defense in some regard, it’s hard enough to write one instrumental, let alone an album full of them, which is likely why we see so few artists attempt it (John 5 and Mountain of Wizard notwithstanding.)  It’s a tricky enterprise, trying to tell a story without words, often best left to the Tom and Jerry’s of the world, which can lean into the visual medium to help move the narrative along.

And all that is to say that Prosthetic Memories starts off with great promise - lead single “Coping Mechanism” begins something like an irradiated “Baba O’Riley,” as though the 45 single of the latter song were played on 78 (kids, ask your parents, or possibly, sigh, your grandparents, what the hell we’re talking about.)  The aural similarity is complete and convenient enough that it must be intentional, yeah? A lovingly tongue-in-cheek tribute to one of the most distinct album openings of all time.

From there we go into “War Hatchet,” which moves with a nice pace, and then the central chug that might as well serve as the refrain for the piece rocks with the same cadence and thump of Static-X’s “Push It.”  To the degree that it’s uncanny.

Sigh…therein lies the rub with Coyote Man’s new album - they’re at their best when they sound like somebody else.  

The remaining tracks are fine for what they are, but as discussed, it’s damn hard to write an album’s length of compelling instrumentals, especially in the absence of a true hook or gimmick.  To use the artists referenced above, John 5 has his obvious virtuosity, and Mountain of Wizard is catchy and creative, stretching into all the corners of blues-based rock with a clean guitar tone and memorable licks.  

Coyote Man is shooting for something more ethereal and cerebral than that, a sound more akin to the (probably forgotten by most,) progressive metal band Prototype, but in the absence of a vocalist to convey a central theme, Prosthetic Memories finds difficulty holding attention.

Just when you think damn, this needs a singer to push the narration, one appears for the final song “Faith in a Burning Room”…but it doesn’t really make a difference.  The die have been cast at that point.

To circle back, Prosthetic Memories isn’t a band record - it just needs more. There’s a lot of meat still on this bone that Coyote Man could have explored.  Their talent and capability are unquestionable, but for this record, they’ve not found an inspirational footing.

EP Review: Afrofuturistics - The Enigmatic

Do we here at BGM know the first damn thing about jazz?  I don’t want to speak for Chris, but I’m going to say the answer is a resounding ‘hell no!’ (Although despite what some fans may say, I know enough to say that Angine De Poitrine is jazz, thereIsaidit.) Now, do we here at BGM know the first damn thing about hip-hop?  I’m gonna throw Chris under the bus here (sorry,) but while I’m sure he’d say no, I’m going to say yes!  While not as well-versed in those arts as I am in metal, I can say I have supped at hip-hop’s bounty.

Why the hell are we talking about this at all?  Isn’t this the space where I normally would talk about some gore-soaked overdrive fest, with art and themes about human depravity and the wanton destruction of the universe? Yes, it is! (Is that a raincoat?  Yes, it is!)

But not today.

It’s important to get outside the comfort zone.  To that end, today we’re taking on the debut EP The Enigmatic from Chicago jazz-hip-hop fusion combo The Afrofuturistics.  And man, is it fun.

The EP has a bunch of novel features to talk about, all of which add up to a cohesive whole.  As mentioned, jazz may not be the strong suit around here, but groove sure as shit is, and The Enigmatic has groove in spades.  The beat of opener “These Things Happen” is catchy enough, but dig down and tune into the rhythm, and there’s a saucy, thick bass line in there that subtly establishes the hook and never deviates while the vocalists above it create.

The low tones featured throughout the twenty-eight minute runtime of the EP are the central star, which means yes, as thoughtful as the lyrics are (more on this in a minute,) the music is really the focal point, which just goes to remind that this is a jazz album first, and everything else second (never mind the instrumental pieces.)  There’s an additional twist, though - conventionally, brass tones are used to brighten a piece, to make it prouder and more bombastic, but in the case of the title track, The Afrofuturistics make them sound uniquely dour and almost threatening.  This only serves to highlight the airy, ethereal saxophone interlude all the more.

The lyrics, and their delivery, are thoughtful and well-parsed.  This is more Saul Williams than DMX, with references sprinkled through both modern (DraftKings) and dated (Alanis Morissette and Calgon, which I’m not sure they make anymore.)  Still this is part of the novelty of the EP as well, as briefly discussed before - the lyrics are nearly secondary, or at least companion to the music, rather than the fixation of the exercise.  Even so, the bars we get to enjoy are a refreshing change from the false bravado and repeated cadences so pervasive in modern hip-hop, and they’re delivered in a slow-burning style similar to…well, does anyone remember Camp Lo?  They’re the closest analog.

There you have it, then.  If you’re looking for a different flavor to get you through the rest of the summer, try out The Afrofuturistics.  And if you’re unwilling to expand your own horizons and try something new…well, I don’t know what to tell you.  Must be a boring life.

"Falling Apart" Requires Having Been Whole

Great songs are the ones that echo through our lives, so connected to our thoughts and emotions that we never hear the pulses fading as the particles begin to slow. Those songs become a part of us, forming pathways between the head and heart that define the ways we think, the ways we feel, the very ways we are. Great songs are rare, because few things can weave themselves into the fabric of our souls without the colors beginning to clash. These songs stitch us up when we are bleeding, they hold us together when we have come undone.

I felt that connection with Dilana's song "Falling Apart" the very first time I heard it through the artifacts and distortion of low resolution video. Like most things in my life, I knew there was something special slapping me to grab my attention, but it would take time before I could understand what it was, or explain it to myself. My life is a history of seeing things only in the rear-view mirror, as the inverted images make more sense to the tangled wires in my head than reality does as it unfolds.

In the first verse, Dilana sings, "one day I'll repair broken thoughts in my head/I pinch my skin, there's no feeling". Around the time this song came to be, I was convinced I had no feelings of my own. This was not stoicism in holding down what was stirring under the surface, but a perceived lack of the emotions I knew were supposed to be present. That was made evident during an episode in college when someone noted my lack of reaction to our 'near death experience' that was nothing of the sort. I realized then that I was quite different than everyone else, although I did not know the extent or reason just yet.

My thinking was broken, and remains broken, but with new and unique cracks keeping the pieces from holding together. Being an unintentional contrarian is not easy, as people begin to turn away when you can't experience life the same way they do. Most don't have the time or patience to try to understand the alternative, which creates a distance difficult to overcome, if those people don't outright deny my experiences are real at all. Being told my memories and feelings don't exist has been a mind-fuck I have struggled with, because I already struggled to believe myself.

Dilana is the person who has lit the torch with which the depths of my soul have been explored. Without her, I might still be that person going through each day letting life bounce and slough off me. Perhaps that would be better than the way things often are, but it would be less authentic, and less of the truth. Dilana has performed miracles in helping me to understand the person who hides behind the snark and flattery I protect myself with. Through these songs, yes, but also as a dear friend.

She goes on to sing, "chasing after what's never been real/tell me why do I feel un-together". Our stories are as divergent as possible, but we both feel that same sense of longing to believe happiness is more than bait tempting us from inside a trap. Love and dreams are prayers we have, but they are answered by people and not God, and only by those few who can see and hear the same frequencies of life we do. What is real are the people who know your heart and soul without needing every detail of the story, the ones who ask nothing but to be a source of support. Feeling together comes from being with those people who see the broken shards not as shrapnel, but as pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that creates a beautiful visage.

The second verse brings the lines, "I'd burn the sky so you could find your way/you'd leave me here in the dark, pleading". Her imagery is evocative, and if that flame is St Elmo's fire guiding our way to each other, it is very much akin to a line I wrote once about the sun being the reason to chase the horizon. Dilana is that light for me.

Being able to sing with your soul is a special quality few vocalists possess. Dilana is one of them, her voice bleeding truth with every note. The weariness and pain of life are evident in her hushed tones, and her defiance to let that define her powers her earth-shattering belted notes. Her stature compacts her soul in a fusion reaction so it can explode from her in a burst of cosmic magic. If Dilana is a star, her voice is the stardust that shines in both the light of the sun and moon. Those different colors show the yin and yang, the light and dark, how there is as much beauty in wiping a tear off your love's face as there is in making them smile. I've had the fortune of achieving one of those.

Then we reach the song's chorus:

"I'm not falling in love/I'm falling apart
Am I getting confused/Because I'm losing my heart
I'm so bloody fucked up/I don't know where to start
Sick of hurting/I tried so hard..."

The crux is contained in these words. Many of us are fucked up, because fate and fortune do not bless us with every gift. Some people are given love without effort, others the inability to tell the difference between love and proximity. Both can be better than wanting love and knowing it hasn't come along, knowing how rare a discovery it is. We try our best to be authentic people, and to love ourselves for who we are, but there comes a point when we need someone else to see us the same way we hope to see ourselves. That isn't selfish, it's a search for confirmation we aren't delusional about who we are and what we are capable of. To be loved is not just a feeling of affection, it's a feeling of acceptance as the people we are. That can mean more to us than any other form of success.

But sometimes we reach a point where we feel so broken down and bruised that we can't see how someone else will ever love us as we currently exist. The light in our eyes is dimmed and shielded by the dark circles, so all that remains is, as I wrote in a song, "the echo of the sun". When that point comes, trying again feels as if we are condemning ourselves to be Sisyphus pushing our heart up the mountain, only to watch it collect dirt as we have to gather it up again.

The answer is sometimes as simple as having one person who sees this not as a flaw, or a problem to solve, but as a fluke of the universe. When you have someone who accepts the totality of you, and loves you for it rather than in spite of it, you don't have to try. That doesn't always happen, but when it does, the questions don't seem to matter anymore.

That is who Dilana has been, and what this song has meant to me. For these years, "Falling Apart" has been a song that has let me feel seen and accepted. That would be enough, but the fact Dilana has become a person who has done the same is the best evidence I have seen that love does in fact exist. I have doubted it, and I still doubt it, but that is what "Falling Apart" lets me think I have felt.

What song could have done more?

Ranking The Edguy Albums

After nearly a decade of silence, we recently got word that Edguy is returning, at least to the stage. They will be playing in their hometown next year in what sounds like a goodbye performance. What isn't clear is if it is a one-off show, the beginning of a small farewell run, or if there will be some amount of new music to coincide with the event. Edguy is the band that started me down the road of all the European rock and metal I've covered over the years on these pages, so it's bittersweet to think they could be done before I am.

With them on my mind, today seems as good a time as any to look back at their catalog and try to assess how they fit together. I'm surprised I never got around to doing this before, so let's see just how divergent from the consensus opinion my rankings are going to be.

1. Tinnitus Sanctus

This one is an easy choice, and a controversial one. The fans were not kind to this record when it came out, and I fully understand why. This was Edguy taking a heavier and darker turn, perhaps trying to keep pace with how power metal was starting to evolve, and it didn't work for everyone. I think it was brilliant, as the tones played well off Tobi's penchant for absurdist humor, to the point where you hardly notice one song is about God creating the aardvark. I'm not sure if the poor reception led to Edguy being shelved in favor of Avantasia, but this is the record I keep coming back to. 

2. Theater Of Salvation

The first Edguy album I heard might be their magnum opus. This was when they had mastered the art of traditional power metal, but were about to grow restless with the conventions of the genre. "The Headless Game" was a signal of the more straightforward groove some of "Mandrake" would take, while the title track pointed toward Tobi's desire to make something bigger than the standard. You can't have Edguy without "Babylon", and you can't find a better example of where Edguy started, and why they needed to evolve.

3. Rocket Ride

Another controversial choice, I realize. This album was when Tobi laid bare any pretense of Edguy being serious, instead filling the album with lyrics and performances that felt more like a parody than an artistic statement. The comedy doesn't all land, but it's wrapped up in a set of songs that revealed Tobi's mastery of the craft. He delivers a diverse set that is unrelenting in their infectious melodies. Even as ridiculous as "Trinidad" or "Fucking With Fire" are, the melodic writing was a step above all Edguy's peers.

4. Mandrake

This could have been Edguy's best album, if Tobi had restrained himself. The quasi title track is a metal anthem for sure, while "The Pharaoh" is Tobi's best epic, and "All The Clowns" is the prototypical song that works even when it shouldn't. The problem is that Tobi shrieks his way through "Nailed To The Wheel" in a way that becomes painful, and "Save Us Now" takes the cringe to a level I can't tolerate as he writes about his drummer being an alien. The good is as good as Edguy ever was, and I prefer to focus on that.

5. Age Of The Joker

This album goes under the radar, because it doesn't have any true highlights of Edguy's catalog. It also doesn't have any of those moments that make you turn away in horror, which makes it the most... boring of their albums? Perhaps so, but it is a consistently enjoyable trip that delivers plenty of songs that got overlooked among their earlier classics. I'll challenge most any power metal band to write a better song than "Fire On The Downline". For that to be Edguy's middle ground proves their worth.

6. Savage Poetry

I'm counting the re-recorded version of the album, which is one of the few times a band actually made an album better by doing it over again. This record is power metal to the core, but it showed Edguy understood melodic writing in a way many others didn't. Despite being so early in their career, they were writing the best ballads in the genre, and even the epic swing hits harder than it should. If any Edguy album has been rising in esteem for me, it's this one.

7. Vain Glory Opera

The three song run of "Scarlet Rose", "Out Of Control", and "Vain Glory Opera" might be the best in the entire catalog. Those three songs are amazing, and only highlight how the rest of the album can't match that level. The rest is good, but not quite as good, and the buzzy guitar tones makes the album sound dated in a way their others don't. Things are also hurt by the ending of the record, where we get a weak ballad and an Ultravox cover, which doesn't leave the best taste in my mouth.

8. Hellfire Club

I loved this album when it came out, but it hasn't aged very well. "The Piper Never Dies" is still one of Tobi's best songs, and "King Of Fools" still crushes, but some of the traditional power metal feels too trite, and the song written about 'morning wood' is a joke taken too far. I let a lot slide because of my fondness for Edguy, but that one isn't a good enough song to abide by the inanity. What's worse is there was an EP that came out at the same time, and it had a few songs that absolutely should have been on the album instead. I still remember that disappointment.

9. Space Police... Defenders Of The Crown

The last Edguy album showed the band running out of gas. It had a few great songs like "Do Me Like A Caveman" and "Realms Of Babayaga", but it also had a few weak attempts to write standard power metal, and a god-awful cover of "Rock Me Amadeus". That is the absolute nadir of their career, I do not apologize for saying. But I'm still glad the album came out, because the closing "The Eternal Wayfarer" would have made a fitting end to the Edguy story, as it is one of my favorite Tobi songs. Unfortunately, it stands alone on this album.

10. Kingdom Of Madness

But the worst Edguy album was always going to be this one. Their first released album, this came too early for Edguy to have found themselves. The writing was not yet developed, and the band was so young the guitars and vocals hardly even sound like themselves. I can understand that it's a rough draft of the band Edguy would become as they figured themselves out, but that doesn't mean I ever want to listen to it again.