Here’s the gist.
It starts out kinda pop-y. Almost upbeat. It doesn’t stay that way.
When I was a kid I was afraid to die
But I growed up now
The first minute bleeds nostalgia. The guitar gently weeps along. Lyrics hint at death.
If I’m caught in the hour of dark
But we swerve, not just to his hour of dark; to yours. But he does it for you.
Then, around 2-minutes in, it changes. The tempo alters, the guitar intensifies. That change sends shivers down my entire body every time. Every time. When McMahon’s emotions shift, subtly, it gets to me. I hear grief. I hear loss. Maybe I’m projecting.
I’ll see you next go-round
Around the 4-minute mark, I’m feeling mortality in my chest, a hollow/weighty presence that reminds me of straddling living and dying — the threshold, liminality, betwixt/between.
Do it for you
I’m not down
Do it for you, yeah
Feel it, too
She’d say, she’d say
I’m almost hesitant to recommend this song, because “Believe” (and probably the Freedom album in its entirety) is music I’m fiercely protective of. You know what I mean. Like, I want EVERYONE to listen to it, but I also want everyone to FUCKING LOVE IT as much as I do. My relationship with this song — the memories, the things it evokes, what it and I have been through together — is private, but it also overflows into the public sphere, pressing on me to share it far and wide.
I will fight you if you diss Amen Dunes, but I’ll also be really really sad if you don’t love “Believe” and feel that kaleidoscope of emotions and the ferocity of mortality that accompanies it.
So today I ask you a favor. Listen to this song. Feel this song. Love this song. Just don’t tell me if you hate it, okay? (Because you’d be wrong, anyway.)
(Song recommendation by Emery Ross)