I usually make no attempt to hide my passion about certain bands and songs, so forgive me if I've already sent you a youtube link to these and instructed you what to listen for, who played in what band before they played in this one or some other tidbit of trivial information I typically am able to provide to those who are willing to listen. Here's a look at one I'm sure to have bothered some of you with.
Jesu-Tired Of Me-S/T- I could have chosen a few off of Jesu's 2004 full length debut, but I landed on the third track on the album "Tired Of Me." Justin K. Broadrick's prolific project after dissolving Godflesh in 2002, Jesu covers some serious, heavy, dark territory on this track. In fact, the whole album is a dirge, a dark crawl to the end but with some surprisingly uplifting and goosebump inducing passages along the way. The song "Tired Of Me" encompasses those qualities into a nine minute and thirty one seconds that leave me breathless with nearly every listen.
The song starts with a shimmering melody, a few notes played gracefully like a church organ hymn. Its a disarming introduction to the song. It lets you breathe, the notes ring out and resonate creating a comfortable, almost familiar atmosphere. But then, forty seconds in, theres a large and startling pound. The devastating main chords of the song come in and rattle the walls, waking and shaking the song out of its sleepy, beautiful intro. It begins its procession.
The guitars are thick. The low end of the bass is predominant, and the drums accentuate each huge strum of the chords. But underneath the heaviness, that opening melody beings to pulse. And then, Broadrick's vocals drop in. With heavy effects, his voice creates a vortex of echo in his signature unsure, insecure clean vocal delivery. The lyrics are self-deprecating and desperate.
I'm so tired of me
Withered and unclean
I'm too blind to see
Shit that is me
And you're so tired of me
I'm too blind to see
You don't need me
My abnormality
The song moves like this for a while, beginning to create a lull amongst the despair and desolation. In its lull it forms a new comfort zone, one far away from the one fashioned by the glistening and nearly hopeful intro. It moves into the comfortability of sadness. But underneath it all, the main melody continues to throb. Its the lifeline of the song. The sign of life alerts you to not give up, and that there may be a way out of the depression. A light shining through the bleakness
The triumphant march towards the light begins at five minutes and forty six seconds. Everything stops, and all that is heard is a faint electronic beep, a heart monitor rhythm that indicates an end, a man reserved to his pain and negativity. But that idea is interrupted much like the glimmering melody at the beginning. Another large shock, and a thick and heavy progression begins, one that has adopted a more upbeat and melodic cadence than what had been carrying the song before. It is decidedly more celebratory in its step, shedding the funeral like feel, and filtering in the light that will help lead the way out the distress. This is not without hesitation however, and you get the sense that this unhappiness may always be there, but with the help of the militant snare beat forcing its way through the layers of sound, the melody soars above it all, pulling everything along to an unbeaten and optimistic end.
The harmonious intro is what concludes the song, albeit played in a more subdued manner. Its muffled and quiet, sopping wet and heavy with the weight of the nine minutes before it. But its still hopeful, just not as outright in its proclamation. All the light has now passed through it, and its time to move on and face the world.
This rules, the song is good too.
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