It’s pretty rare that music truly resonates with me upon first listen. That’s probably not uncommon, but what I don’t think is normal is my tendency to effectively force myself to listen to music until I like it. Out of some unholy amalgamation of unwarranted pride, artistic longing, and search for personal definition, I want good taste in art. Whatever form it takes, I want to appreciate that which is held in high regard.
The targeted art form for such lunacy has shifted as I’ve grown up. It began with video games, which I’ll save as a subject for another time, then to movies. As a teen, I barely ever actually watched movies. I did watch, however, a lot of YouTube, and a lot of movie critics. During that time, the value of analysis and understanding, of what composed something worth discussing, was far greater to me than the subject of discussion. It may have been particularly egregious in this case because in retrospect I don’t think I really cared about movies at all. I learned so much about them, how they work and what makes one special, entirely for the wrong reasons.
At 20 years old, music saved my life. Habitually, artistic obsession followed suit, but this time for purer motivations. I wanted to understand music because, for the first time, I felt its impact. The same song and dance as before ensued. I began learning about music, which artists and albums received critical recognition, and why. The only difference this time was that I actually took the time to listen to the art about which I was learning. For some, this appreciation comes easy. For me, it absolutely does not, but I persist regardless. If I want to like an album, I will listen to it ten times before giving up on it. Usually by that point, it’s grown on me plenty. Kind of like a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Despite how obtuse the act of forcefully developing good taste seems (and is), I believe it pays off. It’s an ongoing effort, of course, but music has brought so much to my life. It’s the result of exploring the medium and making an earnest effort to appreciate it. My ears are far more tuned now than a few years ago, but still:
It’s pretty rare that music truly resonates with me upon first listen.
But on a normal day, on a public bus, and on first listen, Maruja’s “Look Down On Us” brought me to tears. I want to talk about it.
The song is a ten minute monster split in two parts. It kicks off with grungy guitars and an opening verse that quickly builds steam. Harry Wilkinson’s vocals are at the forefront of the mix. His delivery is articulate but just barely maintains posture as repressed anger seems to slip out every other line. Lyrically, Wilkinson is pretty clearly targeting his resentment towards those in charge, and is tired of saving face. Erratic horns kick in as momentum continues, finishing the verse off with Wilkinson proclaiming:
Lap it up like dogs, hear them barking
The cunning isn’t subtle you’re a target
barreling towards the titular conclusion shouted repeatedly in the chorus:
They look down on us
The second verse builds in much the same way, now fully unconcerned with holding back. Imagery of a culture pit against itself by those seeking to reap its remains is potent:
Swallow pills, knock them back to manage our emotions
Corporations profit hard, then cackle like some vultures
Picking bones through their teeth, caught between the meat
See the blood dripping down, to the claws on their feet
As this anger reaches its boiling point in the second chorus, these guttural screams feel cathartic and fully earned. The mantra is stated one last time, and the backing instrumentation takes over.
Rising strings signal for sudden syncopation in the guitars and drums, and the once supporting saxophone is now center-stage. The melody is flourished with arpeggiation while the strings and guitars create swaying, harmonic waves. As this moment reaches its crescendo, the instruments rest to the sound of their own echoes, the tempo eases to a crawl, and all that remains is a single guitar.
Four strums are made, four chords are played, and the band begins anew. They play slow, smooth, and in beautiful, uplifting harmony. Now, removed from his anger, the vocalist returns, prepared to make something from all of this pain.
Surrounded and engulfed in all this turmoil, Wilkinson finds solace in love; here, love is compassion, forgiveness, connection, and respect. He believes we must all look within to find it for ourselves and others:
When the culture is oppressed we dress up all our trauma
The truth is hard to find, hidden deep within one’s aura
Looking up above instead of looking within ourselves
My universe works mentally, my body is a shell
…
Love is my God, I don’t care what you say
All the hate in our hearts, it takes us further away
From the truth that we keep but we swallow it down
Like that lump in your throat, when you can’t make a sound
He notes how this universal agony is perpetually afflicted. It’s cyclically received, repressed, internalized, and projected.
It’s empowering to think that all the hateful people out there
If they were only shown more love, they wouldn’t be so spiteful
…
Hand me down traumas, no evolving from our pain
Never speaking up has got us, always feeling tame
To Wilkinson, we are self-actualizing beings. For the sake of ourselves, our loved ones, our communities, and our species, we must choose love:
I wanna say you are powerful, mighty as a God
Disconnected love, got us always acting up
…
So take a look around you, a spirit in us all
Dampened eyes that say this world can be so cruel
…
Turn pain to power, put faith in love
Be firm and loyal, in yourself put trust
Be twice the ocean, be twice the land
Be twice the water, for your sons and daughters
Don’t look down on others, and don’t let anyone look down on you.
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