ana/thema
We live in some sort of post-time.
I just started listening to the new Anathema album. Anathema are one of the very few bands that mean the world to me. I often think about why I haven't been able to leave them behind, and I realize the pain and love in their music is so beautiful that I feel that if I forget about this beauty, life will be worth less than it is when I am aware of it. There has been no time when the gentle suffering in Anathema's songs has felt oppressive or depressing to me. Even when I have been happiest, words like "But I'm still burning in your flames" would simply contribute to the happiness. Someone, I think Marcel Proust (as quoted by someone in 'Little Miss Sunshine'), said that their life was most meaningful when they were suffering. I feel that this is somehow true about my life as well. The artistic appreciation of pain is too valuable to leave behind in the name of some brainless joy. And I would always love the pain in Anathema's songs.
Today, Anathema broke my heart. And it is not their fault at all--it is my fault entirely. I found out yesterday that their new album was released, and I found some tracks online. As I played the first song, it sounded okay, but the ecstasy that other songs have made me experience was not here. I wanted to choke on these songs, but that didn't happen either. What Anathema served me was some good music similar to Hooverphonic, or some other indie / atmospheric / trip-hop band. I said to myself, "Anathema is dead." And then I realized that it wasn't them, it was me. I had already experienced the ultimate spiritual orgasm through their music, and there was nothing more that could be said or done. Anathema had already died for me when I listened to 'Judgement' or 'Eternity' in 1999 and 2000. Nothing like 'Make It Right' or 'Angelica' could be written and played. Everything that came thereafter was a different kind of life.
When I listen to the songs from previous albums again, I am magically transported to some utopian place where thoughtful, sensitive people interact, hurt each other, love, and experience the beauty of the world in its deepest, quintessential form. I cannot bear listening to one of the new songs after this. It may be that I'm stuck in the past, and I do not wish to part with what made me who I am. Or it may be that Danny and Vincent now see the world differently. Or it may happen that I'll understand the meaning in their new songs eventually, and learn to appreciate modulated vocals as much as I loved Vincent's abysmal cries. But for now, I'd rather crawl up in my bed and dream of a different place, a place where the souls of dead poets still can't find peace, thinking: "And I wonder, if you ever wonder the same..."
Skillman, NJ
May 31
I just started listening to the new Anathema album. Anathema are one of the very few bands that mean the world to me. I often think about why I haven't been able to leave them behind, and I realize the pain and love in their music is so beautiful that I feel that if I forget about this beauty, life will be worth less than it is when I am aware of it. There has been no time when the gentle suffering in Anathema's songs has felt oppressive or depressing to me. Even when I have been happiest, words like "But I'm still burning in your flames" would simply contribute to the happiness. Someone, I think Marcel Proust (as quoted by someone in 'Little Miss Sunshine'), said that their life was most meaningful when they were suffering. I feel that this is somehow true about my life as well. The artistic appreciation of pain is too valuable to leave behind in the name of some brainless joy. And I would always love the pain in Anathema's songs.
Today, Anathema broke my heart. And it is not their fault at all--it is my fault entirely. I found out yesterday that their new album was released, and I found some tracks online. As I played the first song, it sounded okay, but the ecstasy that other songs have made me experience was not here. I wanted to choke on these songs, but that didn't happen either. What Anathema served me was some good music similar to Hooverphonic, or some other indie / atmospheric / trip-hop band. I said to myself, "Anathema is dead." And then I realized that it wasn't them, it was me. I had already experienced the ultimate spiritual orgasm through their music, and there was nothing more that could be said or done. Anathema had already died for me when I listened to 'Judgement' or 'Eternity' in 1999 and 2000. Nothing like 'Make It Right' or 'Angelica' could be written and played. Everything that came thereafter was a different kind of life.
When I listen to the songs from previous albums again, I am magically transported to some utopian place where thoughtful, sensitive people interact, hurt each other, love, and experience the beauty of the world in its deepest, quintessential form. I cannot bear listening to one of the new songs after this. It may be that I'm stuck in the past, and I do not wish to part with what made me who I am. Or it may be that Danny and Vincent now see the world differently. Or it may happen that I'll understand the meaning in their new songs eventually, and learn to appreciate modulated vocals as much as I loved Vincent's abysmal cries. But for now, I'd rather crawl up in my bed and dream of a different place, a place where the souls of dead poets still can't find peace, thinking: "And I wonder, if you ever wonder the same..."
Skillman, NJ
May 31
posted by Malena @ 9:45 AM
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