Of melancholia… You’ve felt this, or you have probably felt nothing at all. Some songwriters and musicians try to fake this and tug at heartstrings and sell records. They will romanticize heartache and maybe pull off something sad and pretty… and ultimately hollow. They might even end up popular. That doesn’t make them valid or true.

This Ryan Karazija though, the solo artist behind LOW ROAR, is/seems like the real deal. I’m not going to question his melancholy creds. It hits too close to home with me to challenge. The first 15 seconds had me and somehow it resonated straight through to this morning and it’s still playing. It rang through feelings that I wasn’t fully aware that I was feeling. I’ve come to accept periods of low-key depression as simply part of life. I’m fully aware that it shouldn’t go on too long. That’s not sustainable. At the same time, it’s all just part of the bigger picture. This record caught me a bit off-guard though. It’s been an exceptionally busy few days and I was so dug into the work that everything snuck up on me. Okay then. There just happens to be a soundtrack now.

Nothing changes just because there is a song or two that mirrors what’s happening. You just move through it and it will pass if you let it. Or if you change the circumstances… or you find the root and dig it up and come to some kind of acceptance and forgiveness of yourself for not weeding your emotional garden. I’ve got all the tools. It’s okay.

What does it mean that coming across recordings like this is so helpful? Simple answer. It reminds me that nothing in my life is novel or unique. The Universe hasn’t singled me out for some manner of sadness and tragedy. We all feel the feels. These things reconnect me where before there was a pervading loneliness. We’re all there together going through these things. Smile at strangers. Don’t be creeped out when they smile at you. We are one. Etc.

Get the picture?

There’s an icy autumn cold to this album too. It’s not exactly aligned with the current wave of tropical weather, but somehow it’s just right anyway.

Selah.