Playlouder - Music is the Network

Remember that time we did that or she said that or that happened and you didn’t realise at the time but it all took on a kind of transcendent quality, a meaning that lasts. In the mind the moment becomes rarefied, stripped of the mundane, a clip or an image or a set of words that evoke an instance out of the normal timeline. More than something that just happened, it becomes part of the ranks of instances that we choose to define our lives, that imbue the coming and going of events and people with a meaning and a sense of progression, a measure of how far we’ve come and where we’ve been. Like foundations that the eternal present of our consciousness rests upon, these moments become part of who we are, a self-mythology with a changing cast of characters. 

This process works to align us with the centre of the universe, a perceived position that progressively lessens from early childhood onwards. Our lives are a story, our friends and our selves are the protagonists, and our existence has a purpose. It’s the sort of thing that’s helped by small to medium quantities of alcohol, and such things tellingly also go well with Frightened Rabbit’s new album Midnight Organ Fight. The young Scottish band are in the business of mythologizing the events of their lives and presenting it through music, as are so many young men who if only they could tell the world about themselves and their friends and the incredible uniqueness and poetry of their perceptions everyone would love them, but the thing is these guys do it well and they do it inclusively and without arrogance. Channelling a melancholy anthemic and engaging brand of folk-tinged indie rock, unashamed of a big-ass melody with backing vocals but equally uncompromising on the lyrical front (“It takes more than fucking someone you don’t know to keep warm”), they’re a breath of fresh but familiar air in a world of dour Editors/Coldplay clones and 2D nu-nurave posturing.

Seemingly the result of a relationship ending (remember kids, if s/he dumps you its all good song-writing material, heartbreak is a musicians best friend!!) the lyrics are bitter, impassioned, occasionally clunky, but possessed of an authenticity that makes them worthy purveyors of the Scottish Confessional Tell It Like It Is genre (see also Aiden Moffat and, um, some other guys): “I’m drunk, I’m drunk and you’re probably on pills”, “you’re the shit and I’m knee deep in it” etc. So it’s the same old story but the way he tells it piques the interest and you can relate it to your life and it makes you think/realise/remember that this whole being-human thing is alright and there’s poetry to be found in even the most torrid encounter with a drug-addled ex in a crap nightclub on an industrial estate on the outskirts of a depressing suburb. “I think I‘ll save suicide for another day”, indeed!

Playlouder’s Sommelier Recommends:

“This kind of rousing slice-of-life melancholia demands a drink with substance and character, but not so strong that you move out of tipsy empathy and inflated self-esteem into drunken depression. Try a robust Chilean Red or a bottle of that Glaswegian favourite, Buckfast.”