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Múm: Yesterday was Dramatic, Today is OK

30th April 2008 | by Aidan Williamson

I'm nine today, this must be the age when everything begins to make sense, where the scrapes and clicks of everyday life merge themselves into something new. The echo of musicality in everything which passes through my head. The chimes of hope ring throughout the land and laughter reaches my periphery, at least I hope it's laughter, I mean, you can never really tell, joy and sadness tend to sound oddly alike when vocalised.

The shift in gears left everything digitised, dogs bark with unearthly distortion, chickens peck at microchips and send the data streams bouncing around their throats, everything is corrupted when it's taken inside of us, the acid of humanity erodes everything that once was beautiful, burning through our conscience until all that's left is a mere memory of what once was, festering in my nasal fossa. And yet, still the beat of the corrupted drum goes on, captivating in it's simplicity, it's slightness, it's pattern.

When the pain subsides, the beauty shines through, I guess there is a number of things, small things which sparkle amidst the slithers of sunlight, like that distant recollection, what was it, was it an event? a thought? a feeling? Like water, the tighter I try to grasp it, the quicker it runs away, sit back. It will come to you, the tides cannot be forced, they spill and crash by their own merit. The only sure thing is that they will return, patience, one day they shall return, just like the thoughts of my mind. There it is, at the seemingly last minute, it returns, with increasing opaqueness, singing in the joy it shall bring.

The joy of Summer, dewdrops dance amongst the leaves which cling to the trees with such apparent delight. Drawing it the light and sending it to their masters. Now the time has passed, the realisation strikes, perhaps my children are my leaves. They see the light of the world in its entirety, never feeling the sadness of the soil, yet they provide glee in abundance to the roots. A murmur from the leaves echoes softly, and the roots undo.

A dream, the memory was not my own, merely the memory of a memory, something which filled the hearts of another. Shouldn't the resonance of their joy fill my own heart, and yet, it leaves just bitterness in the realisation that it belongs not unto myself. The ache has spread, but the dream is still ongoing. Voices flow through, spreading the urgency of their mundanity, tickets, what are these coveted items? Surely entrance is free to this land?

Tickets, once again the word enters, like a colourful thread which threatens to pull me from this land, I grab hold of it, and try to pull the world on its end into this one, but it's too strong, it tears me from here. A stern pair of eyes stare into mine as the keyword is repeated. The sound waves of the surrounding rooms now flood in, voices occupy brains to pass the time, each has no purpose other than to fill the vacuum, but the vacuum moves, it vibrates. Memories of the land before flood back, it's an existence on wheels, a room with a mission, a destination. Will we ever get there I wonder as my back returns to the chair, the leather pouch with the kings ransom returned to its dark abode. Only time will tell. My lids lose their heaviness, they seem content to gaze through the perspex once more. Awake on a train with nothing but time, time to envision what awaits.

The voice of an angel trickles in, the words are indecipherable, yet stark in their beauty, they carry an urgency yet also a discordance. They pull me onwards as my feet hit this platform, shoulders sink, weary under the weight of this atmosphere, yet minds are pulled up by the hands of the gods, their serene ballad parts clouds, making sense of the senseless, sight of the darkness and a semblance of order to the chaos. Still, that note, it feels so wrong, it's the individual who is left out in the cold, noticed for its uniqueness, yet chastised for its notability. If all the pack were ugly ducklings, wouldn't the swan be the monster?

Still the ballad continues, its tone has shifted now, the corrupted note has left the rest and spread wings of its own. It mutters the song of the despondent, of those trampled into the soil. The cast-offs, the broken strings. Their tune is not a happy one, but it seeks out hope in earnest as the sun dives for cover. Does the sun disappear when it falls beyond our reach, how can we know its still there for sure, the world doesn't vanish when we blink. Does it?

Why does not being able to see the things which threaten us shake us more than their being in plain sight? What I don't know can't hurt me, but then if I know nothing, am I invincible. A child knows little, yet she is surrounded by barriers, those with wisdom fear for her naivety. Forget everything you've ever learnt and the dangers will flow away, they will disappear like coins into a tube system. They too have a journey ahead of them, one fraught with dangers. They bounce from wall to wall, being propelled throughout their journey by forces beyond their control, yet to them, they are following the path to which they have chosen. Is it really a choice if you could never of done anything different? These thoughts plague me as the Sunday night just keeps on rolling.

Rolling, rolling. When a circle spins with enough velocity, the appearance of it is shielded from sight. A ball could be a coin, a coin could be a wheel, a wheel could be hollow, kept up by its own insistence. The spokes become one, a solid centre when in fact they are puny. The things that carry us are so slight. Slow the bicycle and you'll see. You will be amazed at the things which keep us going, the things which offer us hope, the things that separate us from the soil. The roots stretch out, but they shall not slow us down, they crave the air for themselves, but it belongs to us now. The journey takes a new turn. Yesterday was dramatic for sure, but the world stretches out in front of me. Today is okay.

Múm's debut album "Yesterday Was Dramatic, Today Is OK" is re-released in the United Kingdom via Morr Records on May 5, 2008.

Rating:  9 / 10