“Still Pushing Forward” or the Healing Power of Aggressive Music
To keep the top paragraph from looking more
like an empty platitude written by a blithering idiot who sat in on one
psychology lecture over orientation week and thinks they understand people, I should
give some context. Mental illness is something I’ve been dealing with for a
while. It’s the horrifyingly commonplace combination of depression and anxiety,
which comes out in nasty forms. It’s
made me have to sit outside house parties chainsmoking because I’m in too anxious
of a state to deal with people. It’s had me thinking about exploding at my best
friends, before catching myself and feeling guilty all day. One small fuck up
will consume most of my day whereas one small victory is buried under the
negativity. It’s had me break down in silent tears on the bus home, all because
something stupid has set me off. It’s made it hard to believe people actually
want to be near me. It’s made me too tired to want to consume any sort of
media. It comes out in dry heaving, shakes, hot and cold flashes. It’s had me scar my own skin to distract
myself from the sickness burrowing away at my stomach. It’s really given a go at completely
destroying me as a person, and it’s come extremely close. A lot of things have
gotten me through this past year and a bit, aggressive music being one.
My taste in music goes in weird directions
(Angel Haze to Architects to Arab Strap to Aphex Twin, if we’re just doing the
As), involves genre hype at times and can best be described as “having
something everyone will dislike”. However it’s always been the heavy end of the
spectrum that has resonated with me, more than anything. Within the dissonance,
the distortion, there’s a strange calming, soothing effect. Whenever I had pent
up frustration or anger, putting on something like Suicide Silence, Whitechapel
or August Burns Red would just let me unload all that anger. The textures, the
layers and subtle melodies can be surprisingly beautiful, whether they be
stirring or bleak as fuck. While I understand that people may not enjoy
screaming, I’ll defend to death the position that harsh vocals are the purest
form of emotional expression. There are few other techniques that let you
express rage, sorrow and sheer hopelessness, all in the same song, just listen
to Witness by Counterparts or Lost Pages by Reflections. The honest extends
outwards to heavy music as a whole. Within the rawness and the aggression,
there is a strong, constantly beating heart. The title quote is from an In
Hearts Wake song, Survival. It might just be a song by some Australian
metalcore band. However it makes me happy, it gets me pumped when I have to
start the day. When I’m down but can be perked up, it’s there, with its fiddly
riff, seismic breakdown and throaty gang chants.
More than any other genre, heavy music has
helped me. It’s helped me find more bands to fan over and spam like-minded
friends with. It’s helped me after a long day when all I want to do is curl up
in a ball and cry. It’s helped me understand that I’m not alone, during times
when everything else could be on another planet. It’s helped give me the
strength to roll out of bed, brew some coffee, roll a cigarette and attempt to
take on the world. It's loud and ugly, sure, but there is something gentle about it, something that can really help people which is all too sadly overlooked.
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