I wanted to hate this album.
Going into it, I kind of knew not to get my hopes up. It was seemingly apparent after
New Surrender that Anberlin wasn't likely to ever top their most tremendous effort,
Cities. The band was truly in their element there, and they had never been more self aware. On
Cities they knew exactly what they wanted to create, they knew exactly what they were creating, and they put out a completely solid and timely album. The kind that defines a band. When the follow-up came out it was forgettable in comparison, though it still had its bright moments. But I knew going into this new CD that it was possible they could continue falling, never again to reach the level of achievement they had once obtained.
And in my first listen-through, I felt that this was absolutely the case. The songs seemed monotonous, there was a lack of energy (something that could NEVER be said about Anberlin of the past), and the lyrics weren't as edgy or quotable. I wanted to hate them for making this.
But this is the story of how I listened to the album a second time and fell in love with it.
Let's get this out of the way: for the most part,
Cities is still their best effort. There will never be the kind of sprawling epic atmosphere found in "Fin", or the raw power in the weightless vocals of "Alexithymia". The ballads, "Unwinding Cable Car" and "Inevitable" still stand as having elements not commonly found in songwriting for this genre, and that Anberlin seemingly won't ever return to. Tonally and sonically,
Cities is still their most consistent album.
But
Dark is the Way, Light is a Place has its place in the discography. The choruses might be repetitive, but on second listen it's clear that this is for a purpose: so that these words can really sink in. This is the only Anberlin album not to come with any liner notes, so you can't even follow along with the songs if you wanted to. You have to discover the lyrics just by listening and letting them envelop you. The chorus of "Closer" is almost completely dominated by a single word repeated over and over again. On first listen, this seemed lazy. On second listen, it is intentional and powerful. With every assertive delivery of the word you feel the desperation in the command, and you know there's a story there. The vocals overlap and intertwine to create some of the atmosphere present on
Cities.
Listening the second time you start to find the story in these songs as a whole. While not the most remarkable tracks on the disc, the early songs give a pretty encouraging and optimistic view of relationships, both of the platonic and romantic varieties. That's where songs like "Take Me", "You Belong Here", and "Impossible" fit in.
But things take a turn, as they always do, and eventually we make our way to "The Art of War". And let me just say, this could quite possibly be one of the best break-up songs ever written. There's such a truth in the words and I don't know how Stephen managed to be so poignant and so simple at the same time. He's one of a handful of lyricists I consciously aspire to and this song is a perfect example of why. This song is instantly quotable and extremely applicable to anyone who writes (or tries to write) about their feelings, whether it be through song, poetry, prose or whatever. "There are songs I'll never write because of you walking out of my life." Yeah. I know.
From there the rest of the album is just undeniably inspired and clearly Stephen knows exactly what he wants to say in these songs. The lyrics have become the main focus for this band and it's not a bad color on them. Following the candidness of "The Art of War," "To the Wolves" seemingly continues the story with its chilling depiction of betrayal. And anyone who can relate here will find something to appreciate in this song. This isn't the abstract songwriting found on earlier releases, nor is it a lighthearted look at relationships and friendships. This is brutal, unabashed honesty set to a relentless soundtrack.
If "To the Wolves" is the middle portion of this chapter in the story, then "Down" is the tragic conclusion. Quite simply, this is the saddest song Anberlin has ever written. It doesn't have the sort of inspired structure that the ballads on
Cities had (though you can hear a tiny bit of "Cable Car" in here, to my pleasant surprise), but the acoustic arrangement here is enough to complement the vocals and lyrics. Stephen sounds somewhat detached to start, but grows increasingly more vulnerable and desperate as the song continues. This is the tale of a broken man, betrayed and heartbroken, now a shell of who he used to be. And he knows that everyone around him sees it. And he can only hope that they will stand with him in his darkest hour.
But there's still one more chapter. In the form of "Depraved".
By now you can sense a theme in this album, and the closing song brings it all home. The emotional roller coaster provided by the previous three songs is turned on its head, inverted, and suddenly everything is hopeful and encouraging. "Are you depraved?" he asks. "Are you deceived?" And we know that these are the exact subjects he's been dealing with for the entire album. "Excuses aside," he says, "stop saying 'please.'"
As the drums pound out a pulsating rhythm he leads us in a chant: "You're not a slave, so get off your knees." We are not meant to be held down by our defeats, our failures, our losses. And as the song swirls into a blistering rock anthem, he leaves us with a challenge: "Someone tell me I'm wrong."
The song unexpectedly reaches a half-baked conclusion, and in the final twenty seconds of the album you are left wondering, did it end on the wrong note?
It didn't.
And right now I'm trying
To see you through the very lens you use
But it's still blurry, still blurry
Song:
"Down" by Anberlin. I don't know if this song will have the same emotional resonance without the rest of the album's journey backing it up, but we'll see. A soft, sad song that... well, just listen to it.
