When it's all gone, something carries on

I don't casually toss around the "album of the year" phrase, so when I say something is in the running for that title, even in May, there's a good chance it'll stand the test of time.

With that in mind, let me say that The Midnight Organ Fight, the sophomore effort from the Scottish Trio Frightened Rabbit, is my favorite record of the year so far.

Trying to write about this band is difficult because they're very hard to classify. No, strike that. The problem is really that they're all to easy to classify. You just point out the Scottish brogue, churning guitars, melancholic lyrics, and some dreamily orchestral folk. If you want to get specific you bring up The Twilight Sad, and maybe mention Snow Patrol if you're feeling impish.

It's not that anything I just wrote is wrong per se, it's just...not enough. It would be like trying to explain the structure of the universe without mentioning dark matter. You can do it in a manner that will satisfy a lot of folks, but for anyone who really wants to delve deeper, it's an agonizingly incomplete description.

Because underneath the easy comparisons are many others. To start, this is a tremendously strong percussive record. In that respect, it reminds me a great deal of The National. There’s “I Feel Better” which would fit perfectly on Alligator, shot through as it is with a throbbing drum line that ricocheting wildly, but firmly tethered. And then there’s “Fast Blood” guided by the same trype of drum-blitzkrieg. It tears through you like a tornado, leaving you scattered, bewildered.

Elsewhere, the achingly gorgeous “Good Arms vs Bad Arms” calls to mind Okkervil River with its delicate interplay between swooping slide-guitar and punctuated bass notes. And if that’s not enough, there’s the guitar interlude starting at about 3:10 which leaves you waiting breathlessly for a Will Sheff vocal to leap out. And then there’s the ramshackle backyard-folk feel of “Old Old Fashioned” which sounds like standing in the shoals of a clear mountain stream.

On another note entirely is the very short “Extrasupervery” which rolls like a fog down the Northern hills, and conveys atmosphere far better than many bands who do this sort of thing exclusively.

But comparisons can only take you so far. I can’t think of another band in the world right now who could have found quite the balance of this record. There’s a terrible fragility that courses through it. Part is in the timbre of the vocals, which enables lines like “I might not want you back, but I want to kill him” or “it takes more than fucking someone you don’t know to keep warm” to sound entirely believable.

Another part is in the songwriting. One showcase song here is the late-album highlight “Poke,” which may their most perfectly constructed song, if not necessarily my favorite. It’s incredibly intimate, like being deep down in the soul of someone – a place that even they can’t fully tap into. It keeps you absolutely spellbound, as you get sucked into the tragedy, the deep regret, the pain that feels like it will drag you under. I can feel it in every bone of my body, the way memories flood back (“Should look through some old photos / I adored you in every one of those), and you wonder just how you’re going to find your way back.

Another highlight in this respect is “Backwards Walk,” which is gut-wrenchingly beautiful and ragged. It’s driven by a single guitar line that holds you tantalizingly close. And is topped off by a final line that is overwhelming in its expression of self-loathing: “you’re the shit and I’m knee-deep in it.” Songs like these convey a sense of the agonizing clarity that can accompany our worst decisions, as well as the kernel of hope that we hold on to in order to keep ourselves afloat.

This becomes most apparent when you reach the album’s centerpiece, the absolutely masterful “Head Rolls Off.” It driven by an easy jangle – and perhaps the best hook they’ve yet managed – absolutely unique to them. It’s a quiet strength, a resoluteness of will that can only be expressed in the context of the general bleakness of the record. In the midst of a series of tales of the downtrodden and depressed, this is the return home. And when the first chorus hits, it’s a moment of absolute joy, of contemplation, and of clarity.

When it's all gone
Something carries on
And it's not morbid at all
Just when natures had enough of you...
When my blood stops,
Someone else's will not
When my head rolls off
Someone else's will turn
And while I'm alive, I'll make tiny changes to earth

And it’s all right there. The meaningless of grand plans, the temporality of our lives. The fear this inspires in us, but the fundamental optimism of it all. We are temporary, but there is more to my self than mere existence. My friends, my family, my loves, my hopes, my tiny contributions...these are all shared and they continue long after me. What we used to look for in God we now see reflected back in the world around us, in the eyes of a million hopeful souls, living, loving, singing, dancing, touching hands, writing stories.

In the end, if human existence is to be justified in the face of all the misery and pain we cause, it will never be because of any grand cause or achievement. Instead, it’s because we fall in love, because we paint pictures, and write songs simply for the joy that comes from making something beautiful. These small kindnesses and shared attempts to pay back one tiny share of the beauty we are all treated to, these are what prove our worth.

This theme is engaged quite literally to end the record with “Floating in the Forth.” In the midst of a pain that feels almost unbearable, you reach a breaking point, a moment of decision. And you say to yourself: Take your life, give it a shake / Gather up, all your loose change / I think I’ll save suicide for another year. The pain doesn’t go away, but it becomes something else, a reason to keep breathing, a catalyst. And so, after all the heart-rending, you emerge, shyly, into the sunshine, squinting a bit at the bright lights but with a smile beginning to form. It’s a delicate subject and in the hands of another band could easily feel cloying or artificial. But here, as a conclusion to this marvelous album, the hope doesn’t feel false.

Head Rolls Off - Frightened Rabbit
Poke - Frightened Rabbit