“One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important.”
(Bertrand Russel)
As I’m not a therapist, I cannot tell you, whether Bertrand Russel was right or not. Maybe he was, or maybe he wasn’t. Or maybe my whole adult existence was nothing but a prelude to a forthcoming grandiose nervous breakdown. I really don’t know. But I can assure you of one thing: I took every step towards the birth of Thanatology very seriously. From the songwriting to the recording, mixing, mastering (etc.) of this album, I poured my heart into these six songs.
Without having the intention to repeat my previous post on the meaning of Thanatology, I try to elaborate my thoughts on this album from another – a very personal – perspective. You could say that talking about the impermanence of life is a somewhat depressive topic – and I will eagerly agree with you on that. Death is the big question mark upon our existence. However, I don’t want (and hopefully won’t) sink into depression, while exploring themes of existential transience. Although “everybody is going to be dead one day, just give them time” (Neil Gaiman), Thanatology is intentionally connected with offering a glimmer of optimism. This positive outlook emerges from the realization that acknowledging life’s ephemeral nature can lead to a profound appreciation of the present moment and the beauty of life.
Why is it so important to me? What’s this slighlty morbid interest all about? It’s quite easy to answer these questions. The last twenty (or at least fifteen…) years of my life were spent under the sign of constant procrastination. I always had big dreams: I started to write a book (I never finished it…), I climbed beautiful rock walls in the Alps and High Tatras (I had to stop doing it for a long while due to health issues…) and practiced a lot on my guitar (but my dream music to-come has actually just started to come into life). And finally, at a certain point started to feel that my whole existence was nothing but a compilation of unrealized possibilities. I was probably too afraid, too hesitant or simply just too lazy to fully dedicate myself to implement my dreams, until – probably during one of the lockdowns, when I had enough time to contemplate on matters like these – I finally realized that I don’t have unlimited time anymore. “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us” teaches us the famous quote by J. R. R. Tolkien – and actually he was damn right: time is running out, and each of us must find out, what to do with what’s left of it.
Well, my very personal solution to the problem of passing time is that I brought – among many other things – Darkwave into life. I know that it could (and should) have been done much earlier. But as Jack Kerouac once wrote: “I’m writing this book because we’re all going to die” (Visions of Cody). There is always a trigger that gives you a final push – and this time I felt triggered by the rush of time. So, please understand it well: I’m presenting these songs, because we’re all (including myself) going to die. And before our time is running out, I wanted to create something meaningful. A nervous breakdown? I don’t think so. Thanatology is a giant leap for me, but only a small step for mankind – and in this regard I will never assign to it unhealthy significance. But still, I poured my heart and soul into these six songs until the point that they became the honest representations of who am I.
Please, listen to them if you want, and take a piece of my soul.