I Jumped On The Bandwagon

Originally written on 26 September 2021, 4.08pm.

I've recently started a 'bullet journal' (I use the quotation marks because it looks NOTHING like a 'typical' bullet journal). All it is is a dollar store notebook. I made an index at the front, a basic habit-tracker, lists with goals for September and October as well as the rest of 2021 as a whole, a page for tracking all bank account activity this month, and I'm doing a daily two-page spread for to-do lists, play-by-play of everything I did and said, and general infodumping. I'm also using it to track the crochet legwarmer pattern I'm currently developing. I haven't drawn in a calendar because it's too much work and honestly, I don't have much of anything to put in it until we've finally gotten the upper hand on COVID-19 and can actually revive the performing arts again.

I had five coloured InkJoy pens lying around that someone had given us. I'm not usually one for coloured pens (my weapon of choice is usually the PaperMate FlexGrip Ultra in black, with a cap, not a clicker, although a somehow picked up a black InkJoy 100 from somewhere and it has been making a very strong case for itself), but I use them to fill in the habit tracker and I've given colours to certain things like mental health status and choreography. I have to admit, the extra bit of colour is nice. This 'journal' is also MUCH lighter than the previous notebook I'd been carting around in my purse and I'm actually using this one as opposed to the last one.

One of my (possibly autistic) obsessions is notebooks. I literally have an entire apple box of UNUSED notebooks and journals at my parents' house, and probably at least a dozen at our place. I also suspect the act of handwriting is a stim for me. I've always felt a sense of security and comfort holding a pen, or even just having one nearby. I have a dozen pens in my purse at any given time, in case one dies or gets lost -- even though I am meticulous about where they are at all times. If someone borrows a pen from me, I will literally hunt them down for it the second they're done writing. If I lend you a pen, that means I trust you a LOT, and just know that my heart is in my throat from the second that pen leaves my hand until it returns to my hand.

All this to say that the rush of adrenaline that comes from having a brand new notebook in my purse that I can (and should!) write in all the time with pretty colours to boot is absolute euphoria for the very understimulated ADHD brain and the familiarity of notebooks and writing is soothing for the autism brain. Is the journal itself actually helping my ADHD symptoms? That remains to be seen -- I haven't been doing it long enough to find out yet.

That being said, reinstating a basic habit tracker into my life (I was doing one in my last year of college to prove to my profs I was actually practicing/trying to improve my skills -- it didn't convince them, of course, but it did help me stay on track and kind of feel better about myself... and Lord knows with those clowns as my profs, I needed all the mini-mood-boosters I could get) is helping a lot with getting back into choreography, specifically. There are other things I'm tracking, but that's the one seeing the most dramatic improvement so far. I've set the bar low (two sets of eight per day) so as to not scare myself off of any seemingly-impossible goals.  If I have ideas for more than two sets of eight, then I choreograph more than two sets of eight. But if not, then I will be happy with only two sets of eight, and I will count that as progress. I need to get my brain back into choreographic shape, the way it was in the summer of 2013. I went to college to improve my choreography, not kill it. Time to bring those five years of knowledge and experience (mostly experience) to bear.

(For example, just now I've been writing this entire post to put off my two sets of eight for today. I literally had my headphones on and my iPod and page of in-progress choreography in front of me, but I didn't have any ideas and was trying desperately to procrastinate. I've done the two sets of eight now and it literally didn't even take me ten minutes -- and this was a section I was struggling with. It's so easy once I just do it... I just had to persuade myself to make this one tiny goal. And if I hadn't made this one tiny goal for myself, this page would have sat there for literally months, if not years.)

I digress. I didn't really have a point to this post, I just wanted to write something (for once) and I felt like telling all the ghosts of people who used to use Blogger that I started a bullet journal experiment. I'll try to make progress updates, but we all know how good I am at those...

Rebuilding (again... maybe...)

For my birthday this past August, my parents bought me Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way. And working through that book has begun to remind me of all the things I loved about being an artist before everybody died.

I loved sitting in my bedroom in my parents' basement as the tree-dappled southern sunlight poured in, lighting the pink walls aflame with warmth and colour and kick-starting my imagination. I loved sitting at the desk, feeling the keys beneath my fingers or the pen scratching softly across the looseleaf. I loved sitting on the pink carpet, dreaming up huge, intricate dances for a dozen dancers, even though I didn't even know that many serious dancers in real life. I loved seeing the characters build the novels right before my eyes -- people often said that reading my writing felt like watching a movie, and I think that's because that's how my works often come to me. I watch the events play out like a film in my mind's eye and I just write down what happens. I choreograph the same way -- I put on the music and write down what the dancers in my head do. I do love the rush of satisfaction when I finish a project, but I also love the challenge of answering the perennial question 'what's next?'

I'm starting to make art again. I'm not choreographing whole dances or writing entire scripts in five days like I used to, but I'm still choreographing, and I'm starting to write posts for this blog again. I'm hoping that's the starting point for writing fiction again.

Despite being out of college for over two years now, I've still been feeling blocked. The first year was because I quite literally almost killed myself trying to prove to a bunch of gaslighting profs that I was actually putting in the work to get that degree, plus I did two major moves in three months and started a major romantic relationship with somebody who did not live anywhere near ANY of the cities I moved to. The second year was the year I planned a wedding during a pandemic and then moved to an entirely new town (because living with one's husband is a thing) and tried to figure out married life after exactly one (1) year of romantic-relationship experience -- total.

My goals are very small. Between the housework, my actual paying job, spending time with the man I married, sleeping, and basic personal hygiene, it often feels like I have no time for myself other than the three-minute drive home from work every day and I feel like I have no time for my artistic pursuits anymore. Nobody tells you that being a wife is a full-time job by itself. I knew motherhood was, but nobody warned me about plain old marriage. Basically if I can't accomplish my daily goals on my 30-minute work break while I'm eating a sandwich with one hand or during my bathroom breaks at home, they aren't going to happen.

So my goals went from 'make twelve full-blown dance videos this year' and 'practice for three hours every day' to 'choreograph two sets of eight every day' and 'read for fifteen minutes.' I'm telling myself that those two sets of eight every day will add up over time and eventually become a full dance piece, and that one chapter a day will result in finished books. Just like Duolingo has you learn a language ten minutes at a time, I'm actively trying to sneak in my creative pursuits in furtive five-minute bursts. I have no idea when exactly I'm going to write 50,000 words in November because 1,667 words per day does take slightly longer than a bathroom break, but I guess I'm going to have to figure it out.

And maybe having small goals because of my time and space limitations right now is the best way to reintegrate myself into the creative world, especially after all the harm that college did to my creative brain. If I had set a big goal like 'twelve dance videos in twelve months,' I wouldn't have even started. The goal would have been too big and overwhelming. But I can trick myself into two sets of eight. I can wheedle myself into fifteen minutes of reading. (It also really helps to track how many days in a row I've managed to do this -- I am VERY competitive and would hate myself for the rest of my life if I broke a long daily streak.) I've already finished two library books (and returned them on time -- no renewals. This has literally NEVER happened before in my entire life), and have put in consistent time on a couple of dances. I am telling myself consistency is enough right now.

Music Day - Arise

 I've been playing this song a lot lately.

I was first introduced to Flyleaf in 2010 at 'Rock The River' in Edmonton. My best friend was a fan of theirs and continued feeding me a steady diet of their work. I bought most of their first two albums around that time. They enjoyed semi-regular rotation on my iTunes for a couple years... and then I forgot about them entirely.

Until my husband introduced me to Breaking Benjamin.

Both bands play similar levels of hard rock (or at least Flyleaf did at the time; I haven't heard a single note they've played since 2012's New Horizons). Breaking Benjamin led me back to Flyleaf, which now has a nostalgic shimmer, so of course now their appeal has increased in my books.

I didn't take much notice of this song when I first bought the CD, but I do remember thinking it was nice. Earlier this summer, I started craving this song. So, for most of the summer, I took it like a drug. I generally don't repeat songs, but I'd play this one three or four times in a row.

It's a song of sadness, but also hope. The vocals and the thick wall of guitars rise and fall together perfectly. The song feels a little bit like a prog rock song, though it clocks in under four and a half minutes. It kicks off with a muted bass, and immediately Lacey Sturm's vocals swoop in and brood right along with it with quiet determination.

Tell the swine

We will make it out alive

There's a note in the pages of the book

So sleep tonight

We'll sleep dreamlessly this time

When we awake, we'll know that everything's all right...

Then it crunches into the pre-chorus and chorus, spinning soaring guitars rising and falling above each other as Sturm cries out with a hope that perhaps she doesn't quite believe:

Hold on

To the world we all remember fighting for

There's still strength left in us yet...

Maybe it's the cultural context. We've now been in lockdown for most of the last year and a half. And the undiluted hatred I'm seeing among people I love and care for is so draining and everything feels so hopeless. I worry that we're past the point of no return, relationally. There are friendships and families and relationships that will be permanently damaged -- a LOT of them. And looking into the future and seeing those damaged relationships destroy the rest of my generation just sucks the wind out of my sails. Even if the virus was gone tomorrow; if all restrictions and all of the COVID-19 deaths stopped tonight, there would still be so much that will never be fixed. What hope is there? Everyone is so bitter and so angry.

Hold on

To the world we all remember dying for...

In March of 2020, we all shut down and wore masks for the greater good. To protect each other. Nobody questioned it. It all seems to utopian now. We sacrificed our lives, our jobs, our hobbies, our paycheques, to keep our loved ones safe. We died to our previous lives to keep each other safe, to preserve the world.

Fast-forward just over one year.

I have seen families literally torn apart because some have and some won't get the vaccine. A year ago, we protected strangers at all costs, and now we would rather cut contact with blood family and friends we've known for decades than get the one tiny shot that would actually protect them.

We died in March 2020 for a world that, it seems, will never, ever come back.

Sing to me about the end of the world

End of these hammers and needles for you

We'll cry tonight

But in the morning we are new

Stand in the sun

We'll dry your eyes...

Often it seems better and easier to hope for the end of the world than it is to hope for the restoration of this one. This one feels beyond repair, and there is nothing left but to wait for it to be over and remind each other that we have that hope, at least.

The song slows again -- Sturm crooning Sing... sing...

A breath.

And then the cry of courage -- arise!

The end is both sad and triumphant -- the world burns in the background, guitars thrashing along with the flames, and we have survived, yet we mourn what we have lost in the fire. The anthemic final chorus, repeating until that final a cappella, is a heart-wrenching cry.

Or maybe I like this song so much because I relate to it on a personal level -- the world always burning around me and the desperate fight to find hope and survive and rebuild myself, over and over and over and over and over and over and over again, mustering up strength from nothing within myself again and again because more often than not I've got no-one to draw from.

Title: Arise

Artist: Flyleaf

Album: Memento Mori

Year: 2009

iTunes here; YouTube here.

Hold on

To the world we all remember dying for

There's still hope left in it yet...

Music Day - Somebody's Gonna Praise His Name

In light of Girder Music's announcement today that they will be reissuing Petra's PHENOMENAL On Fire! album for the first time EVER since its 1988 release, I decided to feature one of the best cuts from that album (and believe me, it is not an easy choice. The whole album is -- as the kids say -- fire). Petra had some 15 years of songwriting experience by this point, plus they were coming off their mega-hit album This Means War! the previous year. They knew exactly how to write a hard-hitting, high-energy song with well-crafted dynamics.

On Fire! was very much the musical and spiritual successor to This Means War! The theme of spiritual warfare continues as well as the guitar-heavy arena rock sound. John Schlitt was really settling into his role as lead vocalist, and songwriter Bob Hartman and the rest of the band had fully gelled with his no-holds-barred vocal style.

This song in particular seems to flown under the radar, which is where all the very best songs seem to go. It is hard arena rock at its absolute zenith. Big shining keyboards, bombastic drums, growling guitars, and thundering bass -- all were in full force on this entire album, and on this track in particular. This is probably one of the (musically) hardest worship songs you will ever hear in your entire life (a theme Petra brought to bear the very next year with their The Rock Cries Out album, whose title was probably inspired by this song), but it starts out deceptively calm. A soft, leisurely synth builds and Schlitt sings a simple praise chorus, backed by an angelic choir of '80s band harmonies (which Petra was no slouch at).

After forty seconds of Baptist-church-worthy solemnity, the drums kick open the door and you're hit with a wall of Bob Hartman's very crunchiest guitars as Petra cranks church up to eleven. The music would absolutely have gotten any church-going fifteen-year-old grounded for a month, but the lyrics come either straight from the pages of scripture (mostly the psalms, but the song does take as its refrain the words of Jesus from Luke 19), or as a direct response to said scriptures. They even take the song down a notch at the end with a gentle acoustic guitar and what almost sounds like waves on the beach (although it could just be cassette noise from my imported copy. I guess we'll all have to buy the CD to find out for sure).

Title: Somebody's Gonna Praise His Name

Artist: Petra

Album: On Fire!

Year: 1988

Pre-order the album here (special sale price for the next four days!), YouTube here, live version here.

As long as I draw breath my lips will praise You

As long as I have strength I want to praise Your name...

ADHD

Originally written 13 September 2021, 11.40pm.

Two days before our first anniversary, I was diagnosed with ADHD and officially told I am on the autism spectrum. This is not a self-diagnosis for attention; this information came from a licensed neuropsychiatrist following an hour-and-a-half assessment and screening.

I was fully prepared for an autism diagnosis. I was not prepared, however, for ADHD.

This has rocked my world -- it explains SO MUCH. I’ve been reading through the NaNoWriMo Adult ADHD thread all day (13 September) and literally crying because all of it is me. Time blindness/underestimating how much time things will take, inability to switch tasks, hyperfocus, inability to focus on anything boring (including sleeping, which is why I will 100% stay up till 4am if no-one actively stops me), inability to just sit still, constantly being busy, brain constantly going a million miles an hour (turns out this is why my brain always feels like it's being eaten by acid), self-teaching myself everything under the sun, millions of brilliant and unfinished creative projects in my wake, constantly interrupting people, executive dysfunction…

I’ve been a dancer for 22 years, I routinely overloaded myself in college and mostly managed to get almost every assignment done hours before it was due (a famous example is when I wrote four papers and two final exams in 36 hours), all while still dancing 12-20 hours a week and keeping up a theatre career on the side (I’m also usually in three shows concurrently, and the only reason I still get away with this is because I’m always on top of things – if I miss a rehearsal for another rehearsal for a different show, I study my butt off and show up next rehearsal looking like I didn’t miss a thing). Twice I wrote two 50k novels in a month for NaNoWriMo because doing only one was too easy and I had enough plot ideas to sustain it. My mother was CONSTANTLY on my case for forgetting my chores and knew that if I was reading or engrossed in a project that nothing short of an atomic bomb under my seat could get my attention (and even then, it would take me a minute to realise where I was and that something was happening). I once choreographed an entire 4.5-minute dance piece for seventeen dancers start-to-finish in one single eight-hour sitting (during which I did not eat, drink, or go to the bathroom), and also recently finished a far less complicated five-minute dance for four people that took me seven years. There’s really no in between. I notoriously learn entire dance pieces three days before I perform them and then perform them better than everyone else in the piece (none of my teachers have ever known what to do with me).

I would never have known I had ADHD until the pandemic took all of my coping mechanisms away – theatre and dance had been giving me enough controlled chaos to keep me sane, and then when it was all taken away, my symptoms (both ADHD and autism) finally presented, big-time. At first I thought it was just depression, brought on by the stress of the pandemic and my first real romantic relationship/marriage, but luckily I follow a few autistic performers on Instagram who regularly post autism/ADHD memes, and I began to see myself in a few too many of these posts. I took my autism suspicions to my therapist, who told me how to go about getting assessed. The process happened very quickly, and it was at my autism assessment that I was screened for and diagnosed with ADHD.

I am not medicated yet, pending a more detailed autism assessment, and also because they want to put me on Wellbutrin and I've shied away because I am TERRIFIED of Wellbutrin. I have not met a single person who has had a positive experience with Wellbutrin. Everyone I know who has been on it has had severe side effects that were ten times worse than the issue that they were trying to treat. Plus, it only comes in pill form, and I can't swallow pills (thanks, autism-related/hereditary texture issues).

As difficult as life is with ADHD, I'm glad to have a diagnosis. Not only does it explain things that I honestly thought meant I was just a no-good failure and a waste of skin/God's punching bag, it also saved our marriage. My husband was constantly on my case for forgetting to do things and he would get extremely frustrated and accuse me of doing it on purpose and I would get angry because I was angry at myself for forgetting (again) and angry at him for not believing me whenever I tried to explain that I didn’t mean to forget things (that's literally what 'forgetting' means...?). Since my diagnosis, we went from screaming matches every other day to I think maybe one or two in the past month. It’s helped me understand myself and make a conscious effort to be more attentive to the things I forget that annoy him the most and it’s helped him understand me and be more patient with me.

There is still a lot to learn and a very, very long way to go. I've borrowed some books from the library to try to understand myself and how to function as an adult human in a world that I never did feel I belonged in. It's a lot to catch up on, and right now I'm feeling rather overwhelmed by it all... but I'll keep trying.

Stay tuned...

I May Have Found An Answer...

Originally written in March 2021.

Lately I've started to wonder if I am autistic.

It would explain SO much... my lifelong texture issues with nearly every 'normal' food on the planet, my inability to get over stuff quickly, why everyone complains that I'm too honest and wants nothing to do with me, why I literally cannot even feign interest in something I just don't care about, why I can't tell apart characters in films (which also explains why I hate watching them)... so much.

This is something that's been brewing for a while. I happen to follow a few autistic performers on Instagram, and the more autism-life memes they posted, the more I found myself relating to them. I started to research a little. At first I thought, 'oh, most of these don't apply to me,' but then I began to remember/notice things. Like how I have legitimately bought clothing purely because I liked the texture. Like how I NEED to either bounce my leg or move my feet at all times. Like how I made a massive scene (meltdown?) in front of my in-laws in my late twenties because there was too much conflict and I just couldn't hold it together anymore. Like the fact that my sister has taken over my old bedroom at my parents' house has left me completely, entirely lost. Like how I know almost literally everything there is to know about Christian music up till the year 1995, but could not tell you one single fact about Michael Jackson or Madonna, even though they were huge artists in the same era. Like how my one and only dream has only ever been choreography, and I literally get suicidal at the mere thought that it might not happen. Like how I struggle SO MUCH to understand the vague phrases my profs and teachers would use.  Like how I shut down at the tiniest provocation. Like how, if someone says, 'just be yourself,' I have literally no idea what to do because I do not, and have never, known who I 'truly' am -- my entire life I have quite consciously taken on the characters of people around me (for better or for worse). Like the fact that I am so cold I am in physical pain 90% of the time. Like the fact that I overexplain literally EVERYTHING. Or the fact that I often will get so engrossed in something (usually reading, writing, or choreographing) that I get 'stuck' in it and literally can't get out -- not even to eat or use the washroom -- until either the task is done or some extremely strong outside force absolutely demands I shift my attention. Or the fact that almost everyone I've ever met is quick to say how smart and quick I am, yet refuses to associate with me because I'm rude/negative/mean/annoying (*cough* HONEST and willing to call out people's crap). Or the fact that I absolutely LOATHE talking to people out loud, but have no problem writing them 800-word texts.

There is autism in the family. It was a cousin who was quite a bit younger than me who I rarely interacted with. My first real experience with autism was when I befriended two fellow theatre performers on the spectrum. I got on extremely (in my case, abnormally) well with both, and it wasn't until MUCH later that I began to wonder if this was because we were more alike than I thought.

I don't know where to go from here. I don't know how to get assessed, especially since the people I've shared my concerns with have outright dismissed them.

I'm not afraid of being diagnosed autistic -- in fact, I'm excited about the possibility. For nearly 25 years I have wondered what was wrong with me, why nobody wanted me and (it seemed) nobody loved me, and maybe now I've found it. Maybe it wasn't my fault like I thought all those years. Maybe all my failings weren't because I wasn't trying hard enough. Maybe my entire lack of a social life has all been based on misunderstanding rather than hate. And because I lacked the concept, the vocabulary, to explain why I couldn't connect with anybody, I thought it was all my fault and I was a failure. I spent YEARS of my life being suicidal for this reason... and maybe I didn't have to be. I'm more worried about NOT being autistic, because if I'm not, I have to start from square one all over again.

I am afraid, however, of posting this.

I have said some pretty bold things on this blog and didn't flinch when posting them, but this one scares me. I am in my late twenties... 'too late' for an autism diagnosis in a lot of people's minds. I know it's common for people (especially women) to go undiagnosed into adulthood, but that doesn't mean the stigma isn't there. I have only shared this suspicion with a handful of people, but every. single. one of them dismissed me immediately. I think they were trying to make me feel better, but it really only made me feel more alone. I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried that the few friends I've managed to make will treat me differently if the term 'autistic' is attached to me. I'm still the same Kate -- I always was. If I'm autistic now, that means I've been autistic from the start -- we just finally have a name for it now; a reason why I have struggled so much with so many things that 'should have' come easily to me. All my life, I wondered why -- why can they make friends so easily and I can't? why do I make the exact same jokes they do and get told off for being 'rude,' when you laughed at the same joke when someone else made it? why do I still carry SO MUCH pain and such a sickening feeling of un-resolution from all those deaths going on six years ago now? why do I feel so different and so unwanted and so 'weird'? why do people get SO angry with me for not understanding the vague new age positive phrases they keep giving me when I ask for genuine, detailed help? why do people call me smart but treat me like I'm stupid? why do I feel like such a failure? why can't I understand what people are saying when they're literally speaking the same language as me and yelling to be heard?

I just don't know where to start.

Music Day - Song In My Soul

Here's another song I inherited from my dad's music library. As far as I know, this is the only not-Christmas album he had from this band.

They were an a cappella band, but without the pretentiousness of Pentatonix. These are clean, simple, refreshing songs with no unnecessary virtuosity. There's nothing in this track that doesn't directly contribute to the pure richness of the song. These guys also write their own songs, so if you love a cappella music but you're tired of Pentatonix butchering perfectly good hymns and Christmas songs with overdone, overdramatic flourishes, this is the artist for you.

My dad listened to this song all the time when I was a kid, and now all it takes is that ascending bass intro to put a smile on my face. I still have a hard time believing that this is all done with the human voice. There's even some beatboxing in other songs on this album (keep in mind, this is 1989 in CCM -- we still don't have beatboxing in mainstream Christian music in 2021). The songs are so rich and full of backing harmonies that one doesn't even miss the band.

This song in particular is a song of unabashed joy, something I don't think any of us has seen in a good long time. It's a worship song that you'll never hear in a church. Parts of the lyric hearken back to the Psalms themselves. It's a pure, simple declaration of joy in God's handiwork. It all clips along at a very danceable, grooveable pace, and they make their point and get out of the way in less than three and a half minutes. It's cheerful and energetic and fun. If you need a quick little pick-me-up, here's a song that'll keep a spring in your step for the rest of the day.

The smile on my face comes from the smile in my heart

You put a song in my soul when You made me

You put a song in my soul and I want to let it out

Your Spirit in my life, well it makes me want to shout

I'm moved to sing with every beat in my heart

You put a song in my soul when You made me

Title: Song In My Soul

Artist: AVB

Album: Song In My Soul

Year: 1989

Label: Clifty Records

iTunes here; YouTube here (live version here -- caution, mullets abound).

The Return Of Royalty

ABBA's back.

Yes, this is old news by now, but it happened the week my grandfather died and I wanted time to process it properly.

I was the biggest ABBA fangirl in the world in my early/mid-teens. That phase ended right around the time I started this blog, actually. I still listened to ABBA songs once in a while, but they were WAY behind artists like Daniel Amos, Crumbächer, and White Heart on my most-played lists.

Then the Instagram announcement came. And fifteen-year-old Kate The ABBA Nut has returned in all of her glory.

If you haven't heard this song yet, do so. I Have Faith In You has somehow become the song of the movement, but Don't Shut Me Down is many times more upbeat and danceable. This is more the ABBA that we knew. I Have Faith In You hearkens back to endlessly slow songs like I Have A Dream, and really, that wasn't who ABBA was. Don't Shut Me Down is what ABBA was -- big and bombastic and dance-inducing. Don't let the melancholy and frail-sounding opening lines fool you -- you just wait for that piano gliss and then tell me that's not ABBA.

This is what pop music needs to be. That rich, lush instrumentation (the warm strings, the plump bass, the glorious keyboard) has been sorely lacking in pop music since the early 2000s when people decided the acoustic guitar was the only instrument that existed anymore. Everyone's talking about the harmonies (and they do sound just as clear and glorious as they did in 1982), but I challenge you to listen to the music. You simply can't make music that soars like that with a solo voice and one (1) acoustic guitar.

Even in the height of my fangirling in my teen years, I always gravitated to the 1980s output. There were only two '80s albums, but both were pure, solid gold. Up till Super Trouper, their albums usually had at least one 'filler' track. But Super Trouper (1980) and The Visitors (1981) both demonstrated a marked growth in their songwriting (possibly due to their increasing familiarity with the English language as well as increased maturity in general as the band members settled into their 30s), as well as increased richness and depth in their instrumentation. I always thought they were just beginning to hit their artistic stride in The Visitors, but of course, true art does not go over well with the masses, so ABBA called it quits.

With all that being said, this song would have fit right in on the overall glittering, shimmering album Super Trouper, perhaps right after Lay All Your Love On Me. Literally nobody in 1980 would have batted an eye. Even vocally, nothing has changed. It's as if they never stopped. It literally feels like The Visitors came out a year ago, rather than 40 years ago. That's how little their skills deteriorated. These people transcend time and trends. Don't mess with them. Even the subject matter of the song hints at this... I'm now and then combined...

It's been a rough two years, friends. Put this on and go dance a bit.

Title: Don't Shut Me Down

Artist: ABBA

Album: Voyage

Year: 2021

Pre-order on their website or iTunes, YouTube here.

Music Day - Secret To Love

Possibly one of the funnest and catchiest songs on my iPod (even counting Crumbächer's incredible contribution to the 'fun and catchy' section of my collection).

This thing starts out with bombastic drums, a head-bobbing rhythm, and a high-spirited keyboard melody before taking it down exactly enough notches for the verse to contrast with the big soaring celebratory (and above all singable) chorus. This is exactly the song you blast in your car with the windows down on a sweltering August day in the city. It's dated in all the right ways (the slightly raspy vocal, the existence of both a keyboard and band harmonies, the big drum production), and timeless in its energy and fun.

Title: Secret To Love

Artist: Halo

Album: Heaven Calling

Year: 1991

Official remastered CD available here. YouTube here.

Listen 2-3 times daily until you feel happier.

Music Day - Ashes Of Eden

I know the new ABBA songs dropped today, but I'm currently traveling due to my grandfather's funeral and haven't got time to properly do those songs justice this week. I already had this post 95% written so this is today's offering. Enjoy!

I'd heard of Breaking Benjamin before. My best friend has gone on about them for years. I always planned to look them up, but never remembered to do so.

Then, on a late night trip down a lonely highway last year, this song came up on my husband's phone. We had been making light conversation, but this song happened to pierce a lull and pique my interest. I listened in silence, hanging onto every word. The man was singing everything I had been feeling since 2015 when my entire world fell apart. I had never heard my feelings put into words so succinctly (even Terry Scott Taylor had to make a whole career out of encapsulating my feelings). The comfort that came from the intimate familiarity quite literally made me cry. My bewildered husband tried to comfort me, but the tears were tears of joy -- the sort of joy that comes when after YEARS of wasted effort and futile attempts, somebody finally understands you and your pain. They were tears of joy in the camaraderie. The man in the song was finally putting into words the questions and the longing and the prayer that my deeply wounded soul had never been able to articulate...

Will the faithful be rewarded

When we come to the end?

Will I miss the final warning

From the life that I have lived?

Is there anybody calling?

I can see the soul within

And I am not worthy

I am not worthy of this

Are You with me after all?

Why can't I hear You?

Are You with me through it all?

Then why can't I feel You?

Stay with me; don't let me go

Because there's nothing left at all

Stay with me; don't let me go

Until the ashes of Eden fall...

The song is MUCH slower than my usual pace, and I would have completely missed it in literally any other context. That song was meant for that exact moment in time, otherwise I would never have heard it.

At the same time, the release date of this album is not lost on me. 2015. The year that everything fell apart. The year that everyone and everything I ever loved died, at least in a spiritual sense. The year that broke my heart into so many pieces that I will never be able to repair it. The year that caused my permanent mental and emotional limp. This album was right there, existing in the world at the same time as my shattered shell, and I missed it when I needed it the most. In a way, that makes me angry. I wonder what kind of person I would have been had I heard that album the year it was first released. Yes, it provided a healing balm for me in 2020, but how much more effective would it have been in 2015, when the wound was still raw and pouring blood?

There's no way to know. If we're being perfectly honest, I probably would have snubbed it at the time, as I generally do with 99% of new music. Heck, I hated even some of my favourite albums that year. I had been a massive ABBA fangirl for well over five years and I found myself literally skipping past my favourite ABBA songs in 2015 because it was too much to process music over the immense amount of pain. I could only manage to listen to three albums (Crumbächer's Escape From The Fallen Planet, Terry Scott Taylor's A Briefing For The Ascent, and Russ Taff's self-titled 1987 album), and it stayed that way for nearly a year.

I just have to accept the little bit of healing this song can offer me now. I suppose it's better than nothing. And it is a beautiful arrangement. Sparse strings and light drums add to the big loneliness of the song and keep the lyrics -- the true star -- front and centre.

Song: Ashes Of Eden

Artist: Breaking Benjamin

Album: The Dark Before The Dawn

Year: 2015

iTunes here; YouTube here.