Review Summary: The soundtrack to being crushed.
Depression takes hold in many different forms. It might iron out highs and lows, making daily existence static and unfeeling. Often, the head becomes an echo chamber, with needling voices that attack self-esteem morphing into jet-engine roars. The torturous flatline is occasionally interrupted by dramatic dips where basic human functions become seemingly insurmountable tasks. Sometimes the most one can do is lay in bed, unmoving and self-loathing. Sluggish thoughts come to a standstill, with sleep as the only release. Unfortunately, one nearly always wakes up. Fear and hate settle like lead in the bottom of the gut, and living itself becomes a chore. The album title, "I Could Live In Hope," is the perfect illustration of this. Possibilities are endless, yet at the same time, completely nonexistent.
At this point, suicide begins to become a serious consideration in the minds of those depressed. The burden has become unbearable. Each expectation and responsibility feels like more weight to carry, and one of two things can happen: either the person collapses, dropping their load, and must reevaluate which metaphorical stones to continue carrying; or, in a Giles Corey situation, weight is added until they are simply crushed. There’s a sort of indomitable pride found in those who choose that second option. Giles Corey’s last words were “more weight.”
Is there not something romantic about killing oneself? Shakespeare’s most acclaimed play ends with the star-crossed lovers committing suicide. Harakiri was specifically reserved as an honorable death for samurai. The Chinese viewed suicide by hanging as a ceremonial process, an unequivocal final statement. Robert Dwyer, the Pennsylvanian state treasurer, shot himself through the roof of the mouth on live TV. Kurt Cobain and Ian Curtis, two of the greatest musical symbols of all time, both committed suicide, by shooting and hanging, respectively. Elliott Smith, less known but arguably just as influential, stabbed himself in the chest twice. Thich Quảng Đức burned himself alive, leading to one of the most famous photographs of all time. These are just some of the most well-known! The concept of taking your own life is simply so fundamentally wrong; it’s also comforting.
Knowing that you are totally in control of your own mortality is reassuring.
