Confession time: I am a hoarder of music.
It may not be as noticeable as it was back in the yesteryear
of physical media, and maybe two years ago my wife and I went full hipster and
only bought physical music on vinyl. But this in no way sated my appetite for
new music, and I continued with my stockpiling and constant iPod syncing.
But I don’t necessarily want to talk about that terrible,
terrible habit of mine today. The hoarding is something that’s gone on for
years and years, and I often believe is a part of a larger issue that I’ve
never made myself confront.
What I want to talk about here is this strange phenomena
that I’ve recently stumbled upon, that I can only seem to name “music out of
time.” I am using this to refer to music that was released at some point in the
past and was consumed, but for some reason disliked, only to be rediscovered
years later and be really enjoyed. I’m not talking about something like “I
heard this song once or twice and didn’t like it, but now I do.” I’m talking
about “I heard this when it was brand new and didn’t like it, but can’t really
say why, but now I do.”
Example: in 2006, Cradle of Filth released Thornography, an album that I bought
right away. I know, I know, but I don’t care. Cradle of Filth is always knocked
and maligned, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in the Internet cred
fest of trying to justify my enjoyment of this or any other band; for me, it’s
more than sufficient that I like them. But this is not about that argument
either. I bought Thornography, threw
it in the CD player in my car and went out for the evening. I have real
distinctive memories of hearing the first three or four tracks before thinking,
“Man, this isn’t very good.” At the time, Cradle was reaching some degree of
mainstream visibility, mainly due to the emergence of Bam Margera, a guy who
became temporarily famous for some reason (I really don’t know why) and had an
MTV show and all those hallmarks of true and lasting fame, where he would
occasionally hang out with metal musicians. Slayer was on once; Dani Filth was
on once. The rest of the roster I don’t know about. But anyway. Cradle had
entered the corner of the mainstream eye right around this time, and maybe
there was a part of me that, upon recognizing that, felt that this album
couldn’t have been good, because now the band was being linked to a stupid show
staring an idiot.
But whatever the reasoning, I think I listened to the album
maybe twice in its entirety, and then put the disc back in the jewel case and
never thought of it again. It would be sold off in one of my CD collection
purges that would happen on occasion back in the day, and honestly was never
missed. Back in November of 2016, I was clicking through my iPod and realized
that I was missing a few Cradle of Filth albums. I downloaded and synched the missing
ones, among them Thornography, and
decided that someday I’d be bored enough or stuck in the car long enough or listless
enough to give the album a listen again, a decade later, to reaffirm my dislike
of it. And then something funny happened.
One day, I found the conditions right, and hit play. The
typical symphonic intro track passed, the same track from every Cradle album.
The first song started, and it was pretty good. I remembered liking the first
two or three songs though, so this was fairly expected. And then the second,
and third, and fourth, and so on tracks passed, and they were pretty good. And
I found myself sitting in my car, thinking, “This is just like other Cradle of
Filth albums. There’s nothing wrong with this.” It had all the usual things
that I liked about a release from the band, so what was the problem I’d had in
2006? Perhaps this is a fluke, I thought, a bastardized paraphrase of Ebenezer
Scrooge, some response brought on by a bit of memory or something. So I tried
again, and a third time at the gym. Each time, I found the record to be pretty
good. 2006 hadn’t been a particularly good or noteworthy year for me, so there
wasn’t any real hard points of nostalgia to affix this album to, the way some
music gets locked in to the grooves of your personal history and from that
eternally remains good or bad in its assessment. Thornography followed 2004’s Nymphetemine,
and album that I do have real strong chronological associations with, and
is more or less the same type of listening experience. Generally speaking, I’ve
fallen behind with the Cradle release schedule, and have three recent albums
that I’ve heard maybe once or not at all, all of them victims of my music
hoarding. But I lost ten years of listening to this album, and I can’t even
explain why. While it may not be a big deal at all, and I sincerely doubt that
it is, I am slightly saddened that I for whatever reason was so curt with this
one.
Another example of this is Necropolis, the 2009 offering from death metal titans Vader. Album
after Vader album make me so excited. I even like The Beast, an album which for some reason people think is garbage.
But Necropolis eluded me for a very
long time. I bought it when it first came out, finding it on eBay for real
cheap. At the time I was in the throes of long term unemployment, and decided I
was going to indulge myself in buying some new music on the Internet to make
myself feel like I was a real adult again.
Being unemployed for a long time really does make you start to feel like
you’re less than human, and something as small as looking forward to a CD
coming in the mail can be enough to remind you that you are still a human. And
so I waited for Necropolis to be
delivered, and when it was, I threw it in the stereo and didn’t dislike it, but
just found it dull and lackluster. For a Vader album, that’s a pretty unusual
review, because even if you’re not a fan of the band, you do know that they are
going to blast away until the record ends. I remember hearing this and just
finding it boring. I’m not sure I listened to it more than twice. When I got an
iPod in 2012 Necropolis was ripped
onto my computer and synced, where it sat until just this week (the week of
May 8th, in case this doesn’t get posted for a while yet). Driving
home from work, I had a hankering for some Vader, and thought, “Why not give
this one a listen?” Man. Necropolis is
a good Vader record, a good death metal record in general, every bit as
pummeling and fast and intense as anything else in the Vader catalog. For the first
time in a long time I was slightly glad for traffic, as it allowed me to listen
to the album twice.
Dismissed at first and rediscovered years later. Why? What
causes this music to be unappreciated in its time, yet quite thoroughly enjoyed
years later, almost instantly? These two tales are not the only instances of
this, and I am not talking about some record that came out years ago and I only
discovered recently. These are instances where I first encountered the music
when it was released, and only had it ‘click’ for me years later. Recently,
I’ve found myself scrolling through iTunes and thinking, “I want to listen to
this entire discography,” as though I were making day-long projects out of
music.
Maybe there is no cause or reason for this phenomena, and it’s
just a naturally occurring thing. I mean, there’s nothing that says I have to
appreciate Zyklon’s Disintegrate on
first listen in 2006, and maybe if it doesn’t click for me until 2017, that’s
just fine? It seems a bit odd that it would just take years for all the audio
stars to align in such a fashion that makes a previously discarded album seem
correct. In the cases mentioned by name in this piece, these are not unknown or
new bands, but rather bands I’ve followed with rapt attention for years, and
still do. Ultimately, this may be a nothing in search of a problem, initial
momentary boredom with some music that years later is rectified. After all, I can
think of albums contemporary with these overlooked ones that made bigger
impressions on me, and so maybe these forgotten ones were simply pushed to the
side by something more immediately gripping or satisfying or interesting. I
suppose I can’t really say. Perhaps there really are albums that I just shove
to the wayside because they weren’t something else.
What I am left with are these hidden gems, efforts buried by
time and discovered for the first time years later to feelings of surprise and
the comforts that old, reliable, familiar music brings; that sense of “ah,
Vader, as always” that feels so, so right. An odd feeling of being wrong so
long ago, and now being relieved that the rediscovery happened, as it gives the
semblance of a missing segment of the bands’ road has been resurfaced,
smoothing out the run from album one to the present day; something missing or
lacking has been accounted for. No explanation is provided, although one is
sought: but that may be unnecessary, as the explanation may never have been
needed. My overactive mind searches for some explanation, but maybe I should
just be happy with having heard some good music. Maybe I don’t need an answer
to everything, or an understanding of everything. Maybe.
But my mind can’t accept that. As if there weren’t enough things
demanding my time, attention and energy these days, my mind can’t just be ok
with the idea that I panned something in 2005 that I find enjoyment in in 2017,
and my mind cannot abide this rough spot of the intellectual mosaic. So I have
to find a way to smooth it over, and make it palatable for my mind. That may
never be possible.
Or even necessary.
But damned if I will stop trying. It really is hell in here.
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