Ephemeral Epipsychidions

Author’s note: This is the first post in an extremely unoriginal series documenting the five albums that I love the most. Not the best five albums. Not the five albums that changed the world. My favourites ones. They are not intended as reviews in the strictest sense, but are commentaries on what these records mean to me and how I relate to them. Bear with me while I get back into writing again, and then maybe I’ll do something slightly more exciting.

In January 2002, Jon Lee, drummer for Feeder, committed suicide in Miami. Nine months later, the band released ‘Comfort In Sound’, and it still ranks in my record collection as one of the most powerfully cathartic responses to the death of a close friend I have ever heard. It is a studied, multi-dimensional dissection of coming to terms with absence in its purest form, and it makes me feel fragile and melancholic and simultaneously joyously uplifted.  It speaks eloquently of loss and absence, but its magic stems far more from its message of experiencing life to the fullest, whilst acknowledging the despair that arises from having that life snatched all too soon from those you love.

It is best to think of the album to think of variations on two themes. The first is anger, and at times Comfort In Sound is extremely angry. “Godzilla” is certainly not the album’s subtlest two minutes, all feedback and fuzz and furious drums, but its message - “live life in overdrive, lost love in suicide” - is clear as day. For the briefest of moments, singer Grant Nicholson rails directly at his friend, screaming his utter disbelief at Lee’s decision to willingly end his life. It’s direct, certainly, but it’s far from the best expression of anger.  That accolade is taken by the track before, the heartbreaking “Summer’s Gone”, and in particular its chorus’ embodiment of anthemic despair. “Come Back Around” and “Helium” have their moments too, particularly the latter’s scuzzy, disjointed introduction.

These four tracks appear in pairs, bursting amongst the rest of the album’s wave upon wave of quiet, elegiac melancholy. Herein lies the core of Comfort In Sound’s power - Nicholson’s tortured musings on the nature of death and living with death. ”Quick Fade” is the most personal, openly dedicated to Lee and doubly affecting as it follows on the heels of the sonic onslaught of “Godzilla”.  “Forget About Tomorrow” is the most epic, soaring on waves of gushing guitars and strings that climb to the skies.  But it is not until the final two tracks - “Love Pollution” and “Moonshine” that the singer’s pain is made fully manifest.  “I can’t go on, I can’t go on this way”, Nicholson cries in the former as the same descending three-note motif repeats again and again over a mournful cello line. That three-note motif appears faster and more urgent in “Moonshine”, but this time paired with swelling guitars.  It’s a hugely affecting closure - affirming both Nicholson’s constant pain, and his admission that life goes on with or without those who mean the most to you.

I’ve probably made this record sound far better than it really is, but that’s only because every time I listen I become more impressed that such conflicting feelings can be encapsulated so perfectly in twelve songs. Feeder’s follow-up Pushing the Senses was nowhere near this quality, too overt in its despair and too unsure of the direction it needed to take.  But in 2002, they created a record that will resonate with anybody who has lost somebody important to them.

Key tracks: “Just the Way I’m Feeling”, “Helium”, “Forget About Tomorrow”, “Summer’s Gone”, “Love Pollution”, “Moonshine”