The Top Ten Songs Of 2024

Songs haunt my mind like ghosts I cannot shake, specters of a past that has looped around to make sense only as I become old enough to solve the mysteries of who I used to be. Certain songs from my youth were at the forefront of my obsessive personality this year, listened to again and again as I found myself wondering how I did not see the truth so long ago. I wrote pieces about a couple of those songs this year, so my thinking was perhaps more attuned to the power of a single song than in past years. Whether that was the cause or not, most of my favorite albums this year did not have a singular song I would point to as the crux of the experience. And with a shorter supple of singles from other sources, it made picking my absolute favorite songs a harder task than most years. For several of these artists, I could have picked among multiple songs without sacrificing anything.

While the tiers may not have been separated by as much as in the past, there were still songs that made a lasting impact on me. These are the ones I am here to celebrate and highlight. In no particular order, my favorite songs of this year are...

VK Lynne - Seam Ripper

Over the course of the year, VK gave us a number of sounds and styles to try out, with this one leaving a lasting impression on me. This was a year of feeling connections fraying, so VK's song about the benefit of cutting the threads connecting us to people we would be better off without hit home with me. I have been on the receiving end of that treatment many times, while I usually find myself holding on for dear life to keep the distance from growing. A jaunty song reminding me that some people are happier leaving me behind was a fitting soundtrack in a year when I questioned the very nature of friendship. This song made me smile more than most of the people in my life.

VK Lynne - Plastic Roses

This song also left a lasting impression. Conjuring the sound of 80s hair metal ballads, VK tells a story about memories that can't be killed or discarded. There are some things that we are stuck with, no matter how much we want to forget or move on. Mine are less memories, and more existential crises, but the sentiment is the same. Just when we think we have moved on, they will pop back up to remind us no matter where you are or how much you've evolved, you can't cut your roots so they won't grow back. A weeping guitar solo is the acknowledgment that we can't bend the world the way we can bend a note.

Lucifer - The Dead Don't Speak

Whether we call Lucifer occult rock, or doom rock, or any other number of genre tags, this song stands out in their catalog for being a huge, stomping number. When the chorus comes in, and Joanna hits that hook, the band is pounding out the chords and beat with as much power as they can muster. It's one of those moments when I can envision a festival crowd headbanging in time, and there's not much better than that. It's the closest thing to an anthem as a fuzzy genre can muster, and I'm here for it.

The Requiem - Cursed

It isn't easy to capture the way a song makes me feel in words. I'm struggling to say what exactly the sensation I get from this song is, because it's more than merely a catchy emo song. There is something in the drive of the guitars and the wail of the vocal that stirs a bit of defiance in me, as if I'm able to muster the energy to give a damn once again. That might be a bit melodramatic, but it's on the right track.

Hannah Wicklund - Sun To Sun

The blues is at its best, at least to me, when it gets stretched out to say something in as loud and epic a way as possible. Hannah does that on this song, drawing out the drama as she lets her guitar and vocal burn. There's a sense that she's pausing between each line as if she needs to gather her breath to spit out the next line. It's a powerful delivery, and one of the rare moments when I feel like I understand the blues. That makes it a song well worth hearing.

Powerwolf - Viva Vulgata

A lot of Powerwolf songs end up sounding the same. That is both a blessing and a curse, but it means when one can stand out from the pack, it must be special. That would be this song, which stands head-and-shoulders above the rest of the album, due to its immense and irresistible hook. Atilla is joined by the usual choir of voices, and they deliver an energetic sermon to the masses, which might not convert my belief system, but it will keep me in the pews for a little while longer.

Blues Pills - Holding Me Back

There is more connecting genres of music than we sometimes notice, given how narrow our focus can be. The first instant I heard this song, there was one inescapable thought that would not leave my mind. Blues Pills had opened a door to show us what music would be like if Adele was fronting a rock band. Elin's voice has always had nods to Adele, but never before has she sounded quite so similar, and with the intro being played akin to "Rollin In The Deep", the comparison was unavoidable. I have struggled with Blues Pills, because they have never matched the power and fire of their debut, but this song is a showcase of what this version of the band can be. God, I hope they can keep it going.

Myles Kennedy - Miss You When You're Gone

My thing for ballads continues, with my favorite song from Myles' album being this slower number. The ringing chords have a beautiful tension, and Myles' voice is its most emotional. When the chorus hits, there's just enough power to propel the song, and a release that is satisfying in a way that a heavier song struggles to achieve. It's great work from Myles, and one of my favorite performances of his ever.

Cassandra's Crossing - Closer To Heaven

Few of the songs on the album give Cassandra as much room to let her voice shine. The sparse arrangement in the verses lets us hear every nuance of her performance, and the layers in the chorus are pillowy soft and gorgeous. This song is less about immediate gratification, and more about the slow-burn appeal of a voice working its way into your heart.

Cemetery Skyline - The Coldest Heart

Perhaps the most metallic song on this goth album, the heavy groove juxtaposed with the slick melody makes this one stand out from the rest. The dynamics build from the soft verse, to a heavier bridge, to the crushing chorus. It winds up in a glorious sweep of emotional vocals and searing lead guitar. Sadness rarely has made me smile so much.

 

The Worst/Most Disappointing Albums Of 2024

A difficult year manifests itself in many ways, one of which is a larger collection of music that winds up disappointing me in one way or another. Maybe I set my expectations too high, or maybe I spent too much of the year in a mood where nothing could have made me happy, but there were an ample number of albums that didn't live up to what I wanted them to be. There were the ones that were truly terrible, and those that merely weren't all they could have been. In either event, they left me with a sour taste in my mouth.

These are those albums.

The Worst:

The Offspring - Supercharged

Once again, The Offspring have made an album that leaves me wishing they hadn't. Last time, I was embarrassed to have ever counted myself a fan of the band. Things aren't quite so bad this time, but the record isn't much better. They rehash some of their older songs, which only serves to remind us of when they were actually a 'good' band, and they do it with a production that sounds worse than before they had a budget to work with. We sometimes talk about veteran bands that only make music as an excuse to keep touring, as if reason was needed anymore. This is one of those albums that proves the point, because I don't know who can hear "Supercharged" without thinking it sounds much more like a battery that has caught fire our in the garage.

Green Day - Saviors

The is very much the same case as our previous entry. Green Day has improved, but only in comparison to the complete black hole that was "Father Of All..." Taken on its own, "Saviors" is yet another Green Day album that gives us pause, and makes us reconsider if they were ever as good as we thought them to be. The answer to that is clearly 'no', and they were really always a singles band that somehow conned us into thinking they were something more. They only thing this album saves is me from having to ever think another Green Day album is worth my time.

Neal Morse - The Restoration: Joseph Pt II

I should just copy-and-paste everything I said about the first album of this set. Neal has once again written a bunch of boring dad rock that tells a story that was already told better. It's completely irrelevant, and I really don't want to have to say anything else.

Jack White - No Name

The return to bare-bones rock is not the celebration White Stripes fans might have been hoping for. After years of weird experiments that didn't work, Jack White goes back to the basics, and either he forgot how to do that, or more of his success is due to that Lego music video than I thought. This record is no fun at all, with fuzzy guitars that are a bit of a mess, and songs that bring almost nothing in the way of memorable moments. It's as if you took "Fell In Love With A Girl", gave it to random people at Guitar Center, and listened to them struggle. This isn't the blues, it just left me feeling blue.

Opeth - The Last Will And Testament

It's rare, but sometimes I hate an album for reasons other than it's quality. This record is at or near the bottom of Opeth's discography, easily, but the real reason I hate it is because of the discourse it created. What Opeth has done is make it impossible for me to take so many fans and critics in the metal scene seriously, because 90% of the talk is about nothing but Mikael growling once again. The fact that this is the same version of boring prog as the last few albums is completely obscured by the fact that so many are more interested in how 'heavy' something is, rather than if it's actually good. I could make the comparison between this and the conclusions drawn from our political climate, but I'm already depressed enough.

The Disappointing:

Taylor Swift - The Tortured Poets Department

Oh, Taylor. Just when it seemed like she was conquering the entire world, she goes and puts out an album that reminds us she is as flawed as any of us. This record takes the good parts of "Midnights", and throws them in the trash so we instead focus on her salty language. Taylor made mistakes with brighter pop as well, but they never seemed as dour as this record. And I'm not even talking about the version that's a double album, which is far too much of Taylor for one sitting. I get the impulse to remind people things aren't always as great as they appear on tv, but her tortured poetry could use a lot more poetry and less torture. Or at least a few decent melodies would have been nice. I didn't sign up for a poetry slam.

Bruce Dickinson - The Mandrake Project

Nearly twenty years.... that's how long we waited for Bruce to follow up three of the best metal records ever. All that time meant this was always going to be a disappointment, but I didn't think it would come in the form of sounding half-assed. Rather than trying to do too much to justify the time, this record rehashes a couple of shorter numbers, and then goes off on several prog tangents, one of which was literally a stream-of-consciousness bit of writing. It sounds it. I suppose the version with the graphic novel is better, because if you're like me, you zone out and lose bits of time when you're reading. That might be the only way to be truly happy listening to Bruce struggle to find his way.

Anette Olzon - Rapture

Once again, Anette Olzon is stuck with her worst material being put out under her own name. Magnus Karlsson wrote the fabulous Allen/Olzon albums, but has saddled her with his least melodic songs, which come complete with harsh vocals dotted throughout. I know there is a family connection in there, but to take the focus off of Anette, who is the best part of the album, is a massive mistake. By not giving us more beautiful distraction, we're left to focus on how this album comes across as a preachy bit of evangelicalism. It does make you wonder, though, why God can't inspire his followers to make better music in his name. So much for being all powerful?

Yours Truly - Toxic

So much for Yours Truly being the most promising new band out there. As much as I loved "Self Care", I am disappointed by this record. It isn't bad, don't get me wrong, but they detour into darker and more 'modern' sounds, which strips away the optimism that made their punk/emo so great. This is a much more downbeat record, which certainly has its place, but it wasn't what I expected or wanted from Yours Truly. This isn't so much the sound of maturity as it is the sound of a band being beaten down by life. That's rather sad, and I'm not sure if they will be able to rebound.

Ad Infinitum - Abyss

What happened? Their album last year was them finally hitting their stride and living up to expectations. They quickly crank out another record, and they leave all of that behind to go down more 'modern' paths. That means everything holding the strong hooks together is washed out in electronics and barking vocals, which plays against everything the band is good at. Melissa Bonny still delivers the choruses with aplomb, but when everything else is so forgettable, that's not enough.

The Top Ten Albums Of 2024

There is the saying that history doesn't repeat, but it does rhyme. While every year in music is an entity unto itself, there are themes and trends that carry over from one to another. In our current case, that theme is one of waning interest. The number of albums I have both listened to and fully enjoyed has been on the decline for a few years now, and it has hit yet another new low this time around.

While other years have been disappointing when it comes to the depth of the releases I hear, there are always a few albums at the very top that make up for it by becoming enduring parts of my listening habits. I can look back through my list of Album Of The Year winners (and usually the runners-up as well) and know those records still excite me the same way they did when I first heard them.

That may not be so true this year. As I sat down to make this list, I was struck by the realization that this is the first year I didn't have an album that grabbed hold of me and was without question the leader in the clubhouse for the top honor. That could be taken as a good thing, as increased competition could mean a different perspective is more positive than how I'm viewing things. I take it the other way, as going so long without falling deeply in love with one album is a concerning development that makes me question the future relationship I will have with music as a whole.

Anyway, there were still good albums, and that is what we're here to talk about today.

10. VK Lynne - The Spider Queen

Like a year-long advent calendar, each month we were treated to a new VK Lynne single. These songs traversed wide swaths of the musical ocean, drawing maps to places we know only by reputation. VK is a songwriter's songwriter, using her talents to craft songs that have something to say, that reveal pieces of ourselves so we can find the one that completes the image of the truth. Taken as a whole, they are a rainbow of creativity, each song a different color on the spectrum, but all combining to create the blinding gleam of a jewel in the sun. The beauty of a kaleidoscope is in the fractal designs giving us new interpretations at every turn. That is what "The Spider Queen" does, asking us if we love music or a particular sound. The answer tells us a lot about ourselves. The method is enchanting.

9. Cassandra's Crossing - Garden Of Earthly Delights

Not all of us listen to music the same way. I am unquestionably a 'vocals first' listener, as nothing else is as important to my judgment of an album as the melody/voice/lyric that soars over the top of the music. When there is a voice I love, it does widen the margin for error. That is the case for this record, which comes from the Frontiers factory with the benefit of featuring Cassandra Cross' voice, who is nearly a doppelganger of Lzzy Hale. That is enough to pique my interest, but she delivers hooks and melodies throughout the record that pull the best out of George Lynch's guitar playing. I gripe a lot about these 'project' albums, but then one like this comes along to make sifting through the others worth the hassle.

8. Myles Kennedy - The Art Of Letting Go

I've heard perhaps too much of Myles Kennedy in the last decade. Between working with Slash, Alter Bridge, and his solo albums, there seems to always be something new coming from him. The Alter Bridge connection is the interesting one, as this record slots in where that band began, as they have gotten more metallic over the years. Myles picks up the slack, delivering songs that are heavy and rocking, but with more restrained aggression. That keeps this record from getting to that area Alter Bridge has been in recently wherein they are trying too hard, and pushing Myles' voice too hard. This is the perfect balance, and preferable than anything Alter Bridge, Slash, or Tremonti himself, has putout lately.

7. Cemetery Skyline - Nordic Gothic

There are different shades of darkness, and while I am certainly one to enjoy melancholy and melodrama, goth is something that has always escaped me. So when I found myself enjoying this record as much as I did, it was a major surprise. This is goth, but it's slick and polished, so the blackness gleams and reflects the uncomfortable look in our eyes. This fits the mold of records I have liked in the last few years, especially Katatonia's "Sky Void Of Stars", where it gives us the sound of the silver lining in the dark clouds.

6. Powerwolf - Wake Up The Wicked

Powerwolf is always good for some fun. I don't think they have ever appeared on my year-end list, but that was more because of the competition than anything I have against them. This year, despite not thinking this is their best record, they finally make an appearance. The wolves put a little more bounce into their sound this time, frolicking in their bloody fun. I do still long for the band to spend a bit more time with their more dramatic side, but it's hard to be disappointed in another batch of their trademark fun. Power metal may be a stale genre, but Powerwolf is one of those rare bands that transcends with their unique take.

5. Smash Atoms - Smash Atoms

I feel a bit bad putting this album so high, because I was never the biggest fan of its most direct inspiration. This record is a spiritual successor to Alice In Chains, as it bears the crushing riffs and haunting harmonies that band made famous. It does this while delivering great songs, hooky melodies, and a nostalgic look back that doesn't feel like a time machine that got stuck. Smash Atoms is a modern interpretation of the grunge era, and is without a doubt the best album trying to dip into those waters I've heard in this recent wave. It says something when an album can make me nostalgic for a sound I wasn't listening to when it was popular. Kudos.

4. Hot Water Music - Vows

There are some days we need music to lift our spirits, and that is what Hot Water Music did more than anyone else this year. Their blend of punk and emo sparkles with positive energy and uplifting melodies. Some of the hooks on the record soar above their weight, with the gruff vocals reminding us why we needed that boost to begin with. If there is something to the adage about needing a spoonful of sugar to take the medicine, this album is an example of it.

3. Sunburst - Manifesto

Progressive metal is difficult to do well, and it deserves applause when a band succeeds. Sunburst put out a good debut album eight years ago, but they returned with an even better effort. They hit all the right marks, with all the intricate playing one could ask for, but every song is anchored with a swelling melody delivered by a voice very much in the vein of Roy Kahn. Sunburst is a more progressive version of Kamelot, but also a more melodic version at the same time. They take that style and perfect it, giving us an album that can be enjoyed on several levels. It's the closest thing to a flawless record this year.

2. Lucifer - V

One of the most enjoyable things about chasing new music is when a band finally lives up to their potential. Lucifer has achieved that feat on this album, finally perfecting their sound and delivering the record I knew they had in them. I have always liked their hazy take on occult rock, but their music had always stopped just short of winning me over. This record adds just a bit more energy to the mix, which gives the songs a stronger melodic factor, and that is the key. These are the most memorable songs the band has ever written, and it creates an album that is still sinister and haunting, but now the kind of haunting that stays in your psyche. That's everything we could have asked for.

1. The Requiem - A Cure To Poison The World

I shouldn't be surprised that my list this year is topped by an emo album. It was a difficult year, and that required music that could tap into the tumult of a mood that struggled to get up off the mat. The Requiem's record came at just the right time, delivering an experience that was a more grounded, less theatrical version of "The Black Parade". It has the same emotional resonance, and the same penchant for sing-along choruses, but eschews the pantomime for something a bit more straight-forward and honest. Carl Jung wrote of a collective unconscious that tethers us to the same human experience, and great records feel like they came through that pipeline. That's what The Requiem was able to achieve, and that is why "A Cure To Poison The World" is my Album Of The Year.

The Conversation: 2024 In Review

Does everyone know what a Mobius strip is? It's a piece of paper that gets looped in such a way that when you trace it, there is only one side. It's a bit of a physical illusion, and I'm starting to feel that way about time. We have gathered at the end of every year to sort through what we have been through, and doing so continues to get harder and harder as the years blend together. Maybe it's just age, and the feeling of acceleration as each year becomes a smaller fraction of our lives, but I tend to think it's more than that.

Because of the lack of monoculture, we each live in our own little bubbles, and as such it's more difficult to remember how those interact with the world at large. That's a high-fallutin' way of saying this was yet another year where it didn't feel like anything 'happened'. There wasn't a musical experience or trend that defined the way we experienced the year, and at least to me it feels as if we are mired in the same stagnant time we have been talking about for years now.

The Good

Chris C: Finding the good was harder than ever this year. Not only was music largely a spewing firehouse of the same ol' same ol', but I spent much of the year in very much the wrong mood to be won over by the things that were offering up something new or exciting. That said, what caught my attention this year were albums that hit the notes of being what we would call 'emotional', if not outright 'emo'. There was a tremendous My Chemical Romance clone from The Requiem, Lucifer was all the occult prayer we could ask for, and Sunburst did progressive metal in the melancholy melodic way few bands ever have. Throw in the grungy heaviness of Smash Atoms doing their best Alice In Chains, and it was a lovely, albeit, dark year. On the other side of the ledger, Powerwolf was there to push our tongues firmly in our cheeks, as we often need from time to time.

D.M: This was a good year for me for bands I was already familiar with.  Which normally wouldn't merit mention, but I think I said the exact opposite at this time last year.  So, to bring us back to the Mobius strip, what's old(ish) has become new again.  As I put the final pieces of my year end best-of in order (I better get my ass in gear,) there's going to be a minimum two and a maximum four bands that I wasn't previously familiar with making their way into my list, and only one of those will be in my already-solidified top eight spots (who is it?  Tune in and find out!) As different as they could be on the spectrum of music I enjoy, I spent a lot of time with The Warning, Combichrist and Dampf.  Oh, wait, damn, are you going to have Powerwolf on your list? Because they're making my list.  Are we going to backdoor our way into a consensus Album of the Year?  I want to give a few bands their due for noble attempts that just fell short or lacked a significant piece.  Sleepmakeswaves had one of the coolest guitar tones of the year, but the album fell into a proggy slog and couldn't hold my attention.  Sons of Alpha Centauri had potential, but got real Radiohead-y.  Shout out to Midnight.  That guy nails his gimmick, he just gets it. Kitty Coen, Inspector Cluzo, Drift Into Black, Free Ride and Keygen Church all had moments that grabbed my attention, but couldn't take me across the finish line.  Ryujin might have had two of the best singles of the year (including the horribly cheesy but also horribly catchy one about rainbows,) but those two singles are all there was.

The Bad

Chris C: This was a bad year for big(ger) names. Green Day and The Offspring both celebrated the thirtieth anniversaries of their landmark albums by releasing record that remind us just how far they've fallen. Getting off the ground doesn't negate the fact they have wounds soon to be fatal. Neal Morse is a big name to me, and he released two lousy albums; one prog, and one below dinner-theater level. And to top things off, right at the end of the year Opeth proved to me why I hate being one of the few people who can think critically. I had always maintained it wasn't the moving away from growled vocals that ruined them, but a change in their songwriting. They added back growls, which has seemingly quieted the majority of the critics, and yet the album is the same turgid turd they've been recycling for nearly fifteen years. I seem to be the only one who hears it.


D.M: Throw in a few more.  DragonForce's record was 'meh,' though I appreciated that they experimented a little (insofar as DragonForce is capable of,) Peal Jam released an album, and of all the albums they've ever put out, well, it sure was one of them.  Jerry Cantrell got a lot of press for his record, and I thought it was only okay, it didn't do anything for me.  Melvins with what, to me, was an uninspired effort (though far be it from me to criticize the quirky genius of King Buzzo,) and PAIN, which I was really looking forward to, pumped out a lackluster record.  None of the ones I've mentioned were truly awful, but I wanted more from all of them (with the exception of Pearl Jam, which in my humble opinion, haven't released a good album since "Vitalogy.")

The Surprising

Chris C: The big one for me was the Lucifer album I mentioned. Last year it was Katatonia and Ad Infinitum, and this year Lucifer is the band that finally lived up to the potential I heard in them. I don't necessarily expect that on a band's fifth album, but they managed to pull it off, and the results were spectacular. Now, I'm enough of a cynic to be wary of them continuing on down this path, but having one album that justified listening to the first four is a definite win in my book. I'll also call Smash Atoms a surprise, because while I've always appreciate Alice In Chains, I don't think I've ever really enjoyed any of their albums, in full, quite this much. Grunge was never my thing, but maybe it's like emo, where I've become angry and bitter enough later on in life. Also, I'm surprised by myself, if I may indulge for a moment. This fall, as I've been writing more about esoteria and personal connections to music, I'm rather pleased with myself for doing some of my best writing. I wasn't sure I still had it in me.

D.M: One big surprise - I actually really liked the new Ihsahn record.  I've always had a certain respect for Ihsahn as someone who's trying to take black and extreme metal to a new place, but I've never listened and thought "wow."  But this one is pretty good, there's a lot of dimensions to it I like.  Do I end-of-year list like it?  Don't know yet.  And maybe that's damning with faint praise.  But the out-of-nowhere pleasant surprise was Transit Method.  Holy crap.  The sensibility of Rush, but as a punk band?  Sign me up!  Also, minor pleasant surprise that Powerman 5000's album was as good as it was.  They'll never be what they were twenty-five years, but I like this record a lot.

The Disappointing

Chris C: This one could take a while, so I'll be brief. I was disappointed by most of the records I was most looking forward to. Bruce Dickinson's first solo album in nearly twenty years should have been a highlight, given how high I hold his last three in esteem. Instead, it truly sounds like an album thrown together with little thought, as if he realized at the last minute he needed music to go along with his graphic novel. Ugh. Favorites from recent years Cold Years and Yours Truly both shifted their sounds in ways that didn't appeal to my ears very much. They aren't bad, but not at all what I wanted to hear. Anette Olzon got another solo album that is the worst material she and Magnus Karlsson are capable of, and doubles as a bit of religious evangelicalism. Double ugh. And then there's Taylor Swift... You know I like words, but Taylor indulging in two records of profane complaining was just too much. It was everything bad about "Midnights" expanded to nearly two hours. At least when there was no single released, I knew it wasn't going to be good. I was not as ready for Ad Infinitum to come back one year after their triumph with a mediocre record that stepped away from everything good they had been working on. Hence why I'm not overly optimistic about what the next Lucifer and Katatonia albums will bring.

D.M: I think a lot of my disappointments I filed under "bad," but I'll say I was generally disappointed in the number of bands who sounded like poor versions of other, better bands.  Never mind my perennial railing against what I consider to be the dead genre of power metal.  Like, I listened to Legions of Doom, and I thought 'this is the poor man's Candlemass,' which is a band I don't like that much anyway.  And this is where I'll disagree with you, but that's what turned me off to Smash Atoms.  I'd rather just listen to "Dirt" again.  And there were a million albums like that this year - bands that wanted to be Danzig, bands that wanted to be Type O Negative, bands that wanted to be Cancer Bats, bands that wanted to be Fear Factory.  Everything felt like an imitation. Oh, and I should point out Category 7.  Some of it's my fault - I need to stop being lured in by supergroups, which suck way more often than they're good.  But I wanted that to be good.  I wanted to like John Bush again.

The Future

Chris C: Maybe I'm just not following the news the way I used to, but I'm not aware of a lot of releases that have been confirmed for next year as of yet. There should be a new Halestorm record, which will be my most anticipated album, and I'm at least interested to hear how Dream Theater is going to go backwards in time with their reunion. Otherwise, everything else I can think of is more due to timing than actual evidence. The two-year cycle might bring us a new Soen album, and perhaps The Dark Element will deliver the album I seem to remember the label teasing for this year. Otherwise, I think I'm in store for another year of scouring to find my passion again.

D.M: New Lacuna Coil!  New Spiders!  Both on my list.  Spiders, as far as I know, hasn't made a peep in years, so curious to see what they come up with.  And Lacuna Coil isn't always a win, but it's always an interesting listen, and worthy of time spent.  There's new Soilwork on the horizon, if the rumors are true, but I've grown dubious of them over the last few years.  I'll listen for sure, but my level of optimism is muted.  As you mention the cycle hopefully bringing bands back around, I'd love a new Red Fang album, and maybe a full-length from The Hawkins?  Oh, and the Mets to win the World Series.  Thanks.

Top 11 Albums of the Year - D.M's List

As the years go by and I've been doing this list for some, oh, I don't know, decade and a half or whatever, it seems to me that each list may be increasingly influenced by where I am in my life - which is to say more accurately, what do I feel like hearing?  Which is to say, this comes with an admission: the list that follows may simply be my personal best albums list.  Okay, let me not insult you - it's obvious that this is my list, my name is on the damn thing.  What I mean is that this may be MY list - it may not be the best albums if we're judging on technical prowess or compositional acuity.  It may be simply a list of albums that I enjoyed the most this year.  And so be it.

Okay, a brief review of the rules:
- Must be an original studio composition in 2024
- No re-releases
- No Greatest Hits or compilations of any kind
- No live albums

Without further preamble - 

HONORABLE MENTION – While She Sleeps – Self Hell

I, for one, wasn’t sure rap metal would ever make a comeback.  Nor was I really sure that it should.  And maybe it still hasn’t.  But there’s a couple artists this year that tried to put a toe back in that formerly pristine but now dirtied and forgotten pool.  While She Sleeps was one of them. (Quick shout-out to Ihsahn’s self-titled album for narrowly missing out here.)

EP OF THE YEAR:  Alestorm – Voyage of the Dead Marauder EP

You know how some people are ‘small doses’ people?  I think Alestorm is a ‘small doses’ band for me.  And this was the perfect dose.  As ever with Alestorm, the comedy is acerbic and not for the faint of heart, but that does nothing to reduce its hilarity.  And the title track?  As legit a song as you can imagine.

11 – Reliqa – Secrets of the Future

Not all that dissimilar from While She Sleeps in concept, but this is the better execution.  The band is tight and in control and they know the sound they’re going for, even as it crosses several aesthetic and sonic boundaries.  

10 – Black Note Graffiti – Resist the Divide

Not a single song over 3:45, and punctuated by short, minimalist riffs.  There’s something about the mechanics of this album that’s kind of hypnotic.  Think Static-X, but dial way back on the gain and slow the tempo down to half speed.  But it’s similar in that the constructions are sparse, and I mean that as a compliment.  You can hear every part being played clearly, and no song overstays its welcome.  A better comparison – like a slightly   less-screamy, more deliberate Hellfreaks.

9 – Dungeon Crawl – Maze Controller

I kinda hate how much I like this album, because it is so unapologetically nerdy and based around late nights mainlining caffeine while you watch your graph-paper hero lose hit points because of a bad luck dice roll.  (And yes, I hate it because I’ve been there.)  When you strip that way, thought, there’s a really good, authentic thrash album underneath, and as I look back, I seem to have a place for that on my list every year (last year was Hellevate’s “The Purpose Is Cruelty” EP.)  The guitar work here is fun, the lyrics are appropriately absurd, the whole thing just feels right.

8 – Sundrifter – An Earlier Time

After Sundrifter released the very good “Visitations” back in whatever-the-hell year it was, I remember thinking to myself “damn, if those guys could just focus this a little and keep it within the margins, they’d really make something great.”  Well, now we have “An Earlier Time,” and it’s exactly the apex of Sundrifter could and should be.  It’s all the same cosmic wanderings of a wayward probe, but it’s snappier, more confident, and all around more listenable, while losing none of the signature fuzzy guitar tone.

7 – Dampf – No Angels Alive

Third year in a row.  Third year in a row that some electronic artist cracks my year end album list, by crossing over and blurring the line into metal.  Now, I’m giving myself a little grace here, because this is the second time that the artist has been Dampf, which means this is more than just a coincidence.  Dampf may not write the most technically challenging metal, but there is no question that there’s an understanding of what goes into composing a catchy hit.  There’s something about these songs that hooks you immediately.

6 – Powerwolf – Wake Up the Wicked

Color me a little surprised.  I’ve long been a Powerwolf partisan, but I freely admit that the band had a long run of making a great album followed by a mediocre one.  So imagine my shock when this album comes out comparatively on the heels of last year's “Interludium,” and still bangs with a new bunch of massive songs that only Powerwolf could have written.

5 – Powerman 5000 – Abandon Ship

Am I the only person in the world who has this as a top five album from 2024?  Probably.  And is some of that no doubt because of my personal nostalgia? Possibly.  But this is my list, so tough rocks.  I’m just going to come out and say it – PM5K will never again be the band that wrote “Tonight the Stars Revolt!” That age has passed.  But they also don’t have to be that band again.  After however many years wandering in the desert, the comeback that seemingly began with “Builders of the Future” some ten years ago is real and tangible and authentic.  And this album is a ton of fun.

4 – Dead Poet Society – Fission

One of the most unique bands going.  Minimalist beats, heavy rhythms, guitar tone not heard since Soundgarden’s “4th of July”…this is a heady mix of styles and colors, and it takes a steady hand to be able to balance all of those into music that’s even listenable, let alone good.  Extra props for “Hurt,” which is probably my Song of the Year…as someone who is also in a non-traditional career (yes, I have a job, and no, it’s not writing about music,) that tune hits close to home sometimes.

**It merits mention, there’s a gap here.  These albums are all great, but the next three were on a level all their own in 2024.**

3 – Transit Method – Othervoid

The sensibilities of Rush, but paired with the beats and rhythms of a punk band?  Hell yeah, sign me up for all of that.  It’s not every year that a band new to me crosses my (virtual) desk and absolutely pins my attention to the wall until I’ve heard the whole thing.  Can’t even remember who the last one would have been.  The Hawkins?  Red Eleven?  Doesn’t matter.  That’s how I felt listening to Transit Method.  And I hope you do, too.

2 – The Warning – Keep Me Fed

Ugh, I went back and forth on this a hundred and fifty times.  I even complained to my compatriot Chris about it.  I haven’t had this much trouble deciding between two albums for #1 since 2014, when I battled internally for a week over Red Eleven’s “Round II” and Destrage’s “Are You Kidding Me? No.” (I picked Red Eleven then, and I stand by it…about half the time.)  I can’t understand why the Warning haven’t conquered the world yet.  The talent, the songs, the aesthetic…this band has everything you want in a world-wide hero rock group.  It must only be the fallow period for rock fandom that we find ourselves in that prevents them from ascending.  Although, every time I see them, it’s in a slightly larger venue…In the meantime, this is certainly the album I spent the most time with this year, but it did ultimately fall short to…

1 – Combichrist – CMBCRST

Some years ago, Combichrist took flak from their fans for gradually moving away from a pure industrial style, incorporating more and more metal elements.  I personally think it’s the best decision the band ever made, as every album since that point (perhaps beginning with the DmC soundtrack?) has been better than the previous, culminating in this masterpiece of doom, gloom and as KMFDM coined the term, the ‘ultra-heavy beat.’  Some of the best riffs of the year were recorded for this album.  What puts it ahead of The Warning at #2?  The Warning, for all their greatness, worked with more professional songwriters.  And as Chris has so passionately explained on our very pages, there’s no sin in that, none at all.  But when you’re deciding between masterpieces, that extra little degree of authenticity for Combichrist matters.

Singles Roundup: The Devil's Blind Horse, Killswitch Engage, Smith/Kotzen, & Spiritbox

As the holiday season is approaching, let's have a look into the advent calendar of bite-size musical offerings.

The Devil's Blind Horse - Dragon

If someone mentions Graveyard in their list of influences, they've already scored points with me. The Devil's Blind Horse takes inspiration from them, by way of similarly updating elements of the classic rock era into the modern times. With saturated guitars and swirling Hammond organ, there's a blend of modern clarity and old-school swampy blues tones. Verses with a hint of boogie give way to a chorus of thick chords, where VK Lynne channels the spirit of Ronnie James Dio era Black Sabbath, where her voice cuts rather than hammers. Songs like this are reminders that you can be old-school without sounding old, and you can be vintage-minded without being stuck in the past. There was another group that paired organs and classic rock with one of my favorite singers a few years back. This one is just as lovely a treat.

Killswitch Engage - Forever Aligned

Consistency is both a blessing and a curse. In the case of Killswitch Engage, I feel like it manages to straddle the line in a way that makes it difficult to assess. Since the return of Jesse Leach, they have put out several quality records that do exactly what they should. Those records are also rather interchangeable, which makes it hard for me to remember one from the next. This first taste of their upcoming record fits into that same category. The riffs are aggressive, Jesse's melody is sturdy, and it's all... fine. There isn't anything to complain about, but there also isn't anything in the song that sounds like the spark to drive my interest. This song sounds like the first step in another 'that's nice, what's next?' cycle. There's nothing wrong with that, but it doesn't have me counting down the days until the release.

Smith/Kotzen - White Noise

Good grief, I must be fickle. I wa surprised how much I enjoyed the debut album from this rather unexpected pairing. It was bluesy, but still a great melodic rock album. It was stuffed with guitar solos, but still song-based enough to not feel indulgent. They followed that with an EP that felt lesser, and now the signalling of a new album comes in the form of another song that lacks everything I liked about that first one. The guitars are fuzzy in a way that makes them sound hollow, the vocals sound oddly placed in the mix, and the melodies aren't catching my ear at all. This really isn't that different, but it does nothing for me. Fickle, right?

Spiritbox - Perfect Soul

I haven't been able to figure out why Spiritbox has become the hot name in modern metal. What I've heard from them has been fine, but not thrilling. Perhaps this song would be the one to win me over, as it leaves most of the heaviest elements to the side. Perhaps, but no. While I do like the focus on the band's cleaner and more emotional side, it's an emotion I'm struggling to grasp. The playing and singing is done with aplomb, but the ethereal melody lilts with such a softness it doesn't stand out in the slightest. It's the heavenly background sound of a cartoon version of 'the good place', which is mostly white noise meant to set the scene. There isn't enough meat on the bone here to get me to come back. I've mostly forgotten the song already.

No, I Cannot Say "I Believe In A Thing Called Love"

We now live in a world I will call 'post obsolescence'. What I mean by that is the media we consume now exists forever, looping back on us like space junk orbiting in regular intervals. We can look back or forward, and often we will see the same things regardless of the direction. While there are times it is comforting to see a reminder of a better past, it is less so when those reminders are of pains and regrets you would rather forget.

There was a time when music came and went, where after its time on the charts, it was largely relegated to the discount bins where people filled out their collections with whatever spare change they had. Today, I often get the impression we are trying to live in the past, as our memories of pop culture have more clout than the newest releases. That comes across as backwards, which might explain a lot about the state of the world.

When a song gets tied to a regret, and that song refuses to fade into obscurity, it creates something I call a 'doom loop'. When one of those arises, it is akin to watching the sun set, only to turn around and watch it setting again on the opposite horizon. Breaking free of the past is impossible, given the straight line of history, but having the dust of time cleared away so we can trace the tether is a unique pain.

Being sober in college, I was often tasked with being the designated driver to karaoke night. I'm still not entirely sure why I let myself get put in that position, since a few hours of drunk people singing drunkenly was not an appealing sight or sound. Perhaps the only positive memory I have of those times was when I was warned not to hit on a roommate's mother. I got a laugh out of that, but probably not for the reason anyone might think.

Most of the time, I spent those nights as far in the corner as I could be, my back to the wall so I could make sure no one could mistakenly catch me in their glance. I would sit at the table, amusing myself by singing falsetto versions of whatever songs were being murdered on the stage. In those days, my voice was still plasticine enough to hit rough approximations of those notes, and I figured it probably annoyed a few people, which was a bonus.

Eventually, my hubris caught up to me. While sitting at the table, I heard my name called. I had not signed up, as I never partook in any of these shenanigans. I was not proud enough, talented enough, or drunk enough for such things. One of my 'friends' had taken it upon themselves to volunteer me to sing, and not just any song. I was called to sing The Darkness' "I Believe In A Thing Called Love". To say I regretted revealing I had even a fraction of a talent is an understatement. If I had talent for violence, I would have been more likely to display that one in the moment.

I thought of running, or hiding, but another 'friend' much larger than myself was standing behind me. He used my slight build against me, lifting me into the air and carrying me toward the stage. Free will was no longer an option, and fate felt like a 'four-letter word'.

I sang the song, barely able to hear if I had even come close to doing it right. I got a few glances from people who were angry they would not be the ones to make asses of themselves singing that song that night. I would have much rather laughed at them than hate myself.

We're twenty years past that moment, and it's been probably a decade since I talked to the people who instigated any of the moments that happened at that bar. And yet, despite the time, I think about that night every time I hear the song. I do play it of my own accord, because at one point I learned to play the rhythm guitar parts, and I haven't given up the instrument as I have nearly everything else yet. Those times I can handle, because I am putting it upon myself.

On the radio, I will still hear that song from time to time. Out of nowhere, the cranked Marshall amp will hit that first chord, and immediately I feel a lump in my throat. When Justin Hawkins gets to the first line and says, "I can't explain all the feelings that you're making me feel," I know exactly what he means.

In a different time, the memories of that night and those people I still hold a grudge against would have been allowed to die. In the early days of tv, episodes were often taped over because no one thought they would ever be worth seeing again. Early films were often destroyed for the silver on the reels. Songs sold sheet music, and then we moved on when the pages yellowed. But no more.

The past is now inescapable. The Darkness recently put out a twentieth anniversary edition of "Permission To Land", and they continue playing "I Believe In A Thing Called Love" to large crowds of people who want to remember who and where they were when it was a hit. That's great for them, but every sunrise is someone else's sunset. When a regret is attached to a song, and it won't go away, it changes the way you think and act.

I have often been accused of being too self-deprecating for my own good, playing down whatever good qualities I may have to the extreme. Perhaps I do, or perhaps I learned the lesson that revealing talents can come back to bit you in the ass. Circumstances are such that I would have still would up as angry with one certain person anyway, but we don't know that at the time. Maybe one less regret would have tipped the scales toward forgiveness, maybe I wouldn't have felt the need to shut myself off even more to prevent such things from happening again.

When I hear "I Believe In A Thing Called Love", I think about all of this. I try to reconcile in my mind how I can still love a song that is attached to a memory I won't be sad about losing in a few more decades. I also think about how many times I have sung that lyric to myself without believing it for a second. I don't believe in love, for many reasons. I don't believe in people, in part because of The Darkness.

I'm the obsolete one here, aren't I?

VK Lynne Takes Us Back To "1983"

We talk of fossils trapped in amber as being 'frozen in time', but the reality is that nothing can stop the flow of time. Despite our best efforts, everything we have built is slowly decaying, only surviving because of the effort we put into maintaining our history as our present as our future. When we step away, the sands of time begin to erode the landscape as the wind throws the grit against the sheen of our rose-colored memories. The past is only as we remember it, because it cannot survive immured into the present day.

Change is gradual, so much so we don't notice it when we are faced with the increments on a daily basis. It's only when we haven't seen someone, or something, for a long stretch of time that we realize the effect time has taken on everything we once loved. That is true of the faces of the people in our lives, and for the skyline backdrop of our hometowns. When we are there to watch each coat of paint and new construction, we hardly notice how little remains of our past.

That is the phenomenon VK Lynne is dealing with this month, as the latest song from "The Spider Queen" deals with returning home to realize the home you left no longer exists. The towns and people might have the same name as they used to, but nothing remains trapped in that amber. VK sings of wanting to remember the way she felt in 1983, when she was able to be more carefree and optimistic about what the future would hold. She recalls the days of singing along to MTV, dreaming of everything that could be. Returning to the site of those memories is not a hug from a familiar friend, but rather an exercise in excavating the layers that have built up over the course of our lives.

Her song is built from acoustic guitar chords, where the bright tone of new strings is much the same as the lilt people put into their voices when they no longer wish to speak ill of what has since passed. If it's impolite to speak critically to people's faces, and you can't speak ill of the dead, it creates a cycle in which we can only talk of ourselves as being happy in the present, because to say otherwise would be an admission we have not moved forward. It's an unhealthy state, but our mental gymnastics are not known for keeping us in the best shape.

What we can hear in VK's voice is a weariness that longing for the past is known to be futile. We are no longer those people, and driving down Main Street will only remind us of how little is left from the days we fondly remember. When we talk of needing a change of scenery, it neglects that our current scenery is changing, just sometimes not for the better. Not if our black clouds are staining the walls, dimming the street lights, and making the place feel colder than it used to.

As the last chorus rolls around, VK sings how it was that brief period of happiness in 1983 that led to her picking up a guitar, because even then it was evident that the sky was not in fact the limit, but rather an illusion seen through the glass we press our faces up against. Music was the source of joy then, and it is the source of therapy now. It is the act of writing and singing these songs that lets us tell the stories of our lives, that lets us find a voice we don't always feel comfortable using. Music is a safe space, a security blanket, and the way we define ourselves and our lives.

For VK Lynne, 1983 was a year that pointed her toward the future. For me, 1983 was the beginning of time. That means it is a confluence of happenstance, and one of those knots in the thread of time where paths cross in ways we will only understand later. If VK Lynne was forged then, that's one good thing the 1980s has given us.

"1983" releases tomorrow. Pre-save it here.

"No Thanks-Giving", Part II

This is a time for giving thanks to those people in our lives who have brought us joy, who make the experience we call living worth the effort it takes some days to get up and survive another day. It goes beyond people, though, with many of our other loves filling that same space. For those of us who would find ourselves here, music is near the top of the list. I could spend today's essay running through some of the things I am thankful for that come from music, but what's the fun in that?

Last year, I used this week to talk about a few things I am not grateful for in the music world, the things I quite readily say "no thanks" to. At the end of that missive, I mentioned a few more things I would get to the next year, if I wrote a sequel.

Here we are, and with the true holiday season approaching (if you refuse to let it start this early), it feels right to go down this path once again.

So here are a few more things I'm saying "no thanks" to:

Covers Albums

There is nothing wrong with bands doing the occasional cover. They can give an interesting spin on an old favorite, and they can show us the roots of bands that perhaps aren't able to put that influence into their own music. I usually consider them a bit trifling, but they are harmless when done in moderation. Entire albums of covers, though, strike a very different chord. They move from being an homage to being lazy, where it feels a band knows they need to put out a new record, but they don't have anything to say. Believe me, I fully understand that head space, but the answer is not to pull out a bunch of songs you already know how to play.

What is worse is when you find a band like UFO, who made their last album a covers record. If anything gives the indication of giving less of a fuck about your fans and your legacy, I'm not sure if I can think of it. The very last impression they wanted to leave was with mediocre renditions of songs that aren't even theirs. Ugh. That's the extreme case, but covers albums fail across the board. You wind up either with an album that sounds wrong because the styles don't mesh, or one that sounds right but doesn't feel authentic. If you want to listen to Slayer, for example, who wants to hear them playing punk songs?

Double Albums

Perhaps this is a controversial statement, but I would say there has never been a double album that could not have been improved by being pared down to a single. Writing songs is hard, and I know we artistic types get attached to most everything we create. They are pieces of us, but not everything we come up with is great. I have no issue criticizing my own work, and it would be nice if bands were more willing to do the same. When you write a batch of songs, they will not all be as inspired, let alone as good. Some will rise to the top, some will sink to the bottom. That is true whether it is ten songs, twenty songs, or (god forbid) fifty.

Asking anyone for nearly two hours of their attention is a tall order, and if that comes with a dose of filler, you have asked too much. If you have one or two great songs too many for an album, that is actually a gift. It means you have a starting point for the next album, not a reason to put out two watered-down albums at the same time. Brevity is the soul of wit, and editing is the godsend of musicians (writers too, but we're not talking about me today).

Worthless Introductions

How many albums have you put on, only to find it starts out with a one to three minute bit of sound collage, or orchestral buildup? It is especially numerous in the power and symphonic metal worlds, and they make me wonder if the bands understand what making a record is all about. Albums are not 'cinematic' experiences, no matter what kind of language we use to describe them. World-building is necessary in film and literature, only at times, but it is never needed in music. A song has to live or die on its own merits. Another question comes to mind; if the introductory piece is so important to the song that follows it, why is it not a part of that song? The impression these pieces leave me with is a combination of ego-boosting to sound more like an 'artist', and padding out the album without needing to write another song. In either case, they rarely contain music worth hearing more than that initial time. Just let me get to the real songs, please.

Jukebox Albums

Here is the one that gnaws at me the most currently. After the success of Avantasia, the melodic metal world became flooded with albums put out by a 'mastermind', who brought together a collection of singers to create a kaleidoscope of sounds over the course of an album. It sounds like a wonderful idea, and a fun way of adding diversity to static songwriting. And in theory it is those things. Tobias has done many great things with Avantasia (even if I do claim to prefer Edguy, overall), but he created a monster that grows new bodies every time we lop off an appendage.

Here is the problem with all of these projects; I don't think you can love every singer the same way. Voices are all different, and we all hear them differently. Even when they occupy similar tone and tenor, some will hit us in ways others never can. The only way I can explain it, as I did with my muse, is to say some voices resonate at the frequency of our souls. That means other voices bounce off us as if we are wearing polarized hearing protection. Even on Tobias' albums, he usually has one singer whose voice I would rather not hear (it's always Michael Kiske or Geoff Tate).

When there are multiple singers on an album, and I love the record, I can't escape the nagging thought of what the record would sound like if my favorite singer from the bunch performed the entire thing. Rarely, if ever, have I thought the extra voices made the experience better. Instead, I listen to these album with a sense of trepidation, waiting to hear if the next song is the one I know is going to be the disappointment.

I wouldn't mind if this trend was outlawed by the metal gods, but I am not so lucky.

All I can do is say "no thanks", as often as I can.

"Sweet Pain", Cyrano, & Me

They say art imitates life, although there are times when the imitation is not noticed until after we have seen the connection flow the other direction. Occasionally, life will unfold before our eyes, and only after the fact will we realize there was a song echoing in our heads that told the story before we lived it. The human experience might be individual, but it is also shared, and the arts have borne that out as fact more times than we would like to count.

I had not read the story of Cyrano De Bergerac as a young man. Literary history was not a thread I explored with any fervor, beyond what had been required. I could recite the first few lines of Hamlet's soliloquy, and I was intrigued by the energetic fervor of Kerouac's writing, but the stories of the past did not feel vital and relevant to life at the turn of the millennium.

I was listening to Blues Traveler, though, and I knew the first line of "Sweet Pain" made reference to Cyrano. As it was on a record I had trouble grasping, and there were more immediate options for me to dive into, it was a song that slipped through my consciousness for many years. Looking back, I would say it was a benefit, as knowing the way the story plays out would not have been helpful to my experience.

In college, I was put in the position of Cyrano. A friend relied on me to help him navigate the contours of his relationship, while another needed help organizing his thoughts into phrases that would not scare away the objects of his affection. In both cases, I was massaging words to help other people live out things I had no experience with. These people had never seen me 'with' another person, and they hadn't heard me talk of such things, and yet they considered me their best option to find ways of expressing love, lust, and passion. This is where I would include a joke about the failures of the education system, but it seems too obvious, doesn't it?

Cyrano lived a life of pain, wanting desperately to love, but being cursed to be seen as a monster by those whose affection he wanted.

"And when beauty kind and full of grace
Again denied the beast her hand
The beast he turned and hid his face
And tried with all his might and magic to understand"

I spent many nights sitting up, listening to the crushing melancholy of Opeth, trying to understand those very same realities. I was not without drives and passions, but less so a monster I was a ghost, an invisibility floating in the background who could only be seen when no better option was available. Or perhaps it was only when the drink and drugs has fully broken down their inhibitions, and then the barrier between good taste and me was thin enough for my visage to bleed through.

"What did them in? Not suicide
Just a lengthy friendship and a dream of how it could be
And isn't it a crime?
Was it more than they could bear?
You know they did not even care
At all and they might have something there
But I'm here and I don't see where
All I hear is their silent prayer"

Being the option of last resort does not hurt because you are at the bottom of the pile, but rather that you are kept in the pile at all. These friends who could be more have the ability to let us go, to set us free from the heartstrings binding us to hope, but they know it works to their advantage to keep us on the hook... just in case. In my example, the cord severed when the alcohol burned through it, and I learned that all of this rationalizing and philosophizing is a long-winded way of trying to make the same pain hurt in two different ways, so I could at least claim the bruises were fresh.

"In no position to give advice
My heart, it spoke and I wrote it down
And you know every wisdom has its price
My head up in the stars
And my feet planted firmly on the ground
When will I embrace this life I see?"

I wrote many words, not so much for them, but for myself. I was learning what passion was, learning who I was, and trying to figure out how any of the pieces fit together. What emerged was a poet who had insight into life from the very fact I had never lived it. I observed, I saw the mistakes others made, and I became aware of what being a good and loving person would entail. Not that I would be able to pull off such a feat, but through my words I could pretend to be the person I wanted to be.

Understanding why people came to me for advice still made no sense, as they had no idea what was going on in my head. I tried my best to point them in the right direction, but things fell apart regardless. I felt their blame, even though it was their own fault for putting their trust in someone who clearly deserved none of it. If I could not win someone over with my own feelings, I certainly couldn't speak so eloquently to achieve success for someone else.

Eventually, I would happen upon someone who appreciated my words, even if they would always be a one-way correspondence. The shadows would remain the best place to stand, because it was there I could hide the disappointment I could not wipe from my face. I could claim to be happy for people's happiness, I could tell them I was going to be okay, and perhaps they wouldn't notice every metaphor was hiding a bitter code inside.

"Sweet pain
Is sometimes what you need
Sweet pain
It allows the blood to bleed
Sweet pain
From the moment of your birth
Sweet pain
You know it keeps you here on Earth"

In a perverse twist of fate, that pain has been necessary. If I hadn't been in those positions, if I hadn't felt the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, I don't think I would have been any happier. The pain is a reminder that I once had hope, that I once believed in a better future. I'm not sure if I do anymore, which comes with the realization I haven't felt hurt in years. I have remained numb, which is the worst feeling one can have. That numbness is a resignation, a fire's dead embers, an emptiness that cannot be filled.

As much as being Cyrano hurts, there is sweetness in the pain. Blood alone is an acrid taste to have on my tongue.

Like I said, it was probably a good thing I wasn't thinking about all of this at the time. "Sweet Pain" might have hurt too much then, before the numbness set in.