Given the option, I’d rather hear what a band or artist’s intentions and thoughts behind their work are. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t also interpret it myself, for myself, but I just like being informed. I like knowing. I want to give the artist an opportunity to not be misinterpreted or misjudged, likely stemming from my own desire to be asked for my thoughts or feelings on something instead of assuming. I want to connect the dots between the music and lyrics, and the emotions that went into them. Sometimes we’re not afforded that and we have to make our own way or just simply enjoy the work on its own merits and skill. I’m okay with that.
I thought that would be the case for this review. Outlander haven’t divulged much about Acts of Harm, their second LP. There’s no long-form missive in the description of this album’s Bandcamp page, no such thing in the description of their YouTube videos hosted ever so lovingly on Church Road Records‘ channel, and no exhaustive and wordy posts on their Facebook or Instagram that I saw. It wasn’t until I dug deeper, clicking their aggregate link found in the aforementioned YouTube videos, that I found something in their official store on Deathwish. Funnily enough, my search for meaning was somewhat a reflection of the album’s themes. I’m okay with that.
Acts of Harm is described as ‘an intimate coming of age record of reconciliation with adulthood‘ and something that ‘finds beauty and despair in the mundane, and explores the cycles of decline that prop-up the fragile balance of normality in modern society.‘ I have experienced the mundane as an adult. Daily, in fact. I just returned to work today after taking seven business days off simply because I could. Returning was about as mundane as it could get. Even the very act of searching for anything concrete on the album before writing contributed to today’s mundanity – though more the beauty side, not the despair – because I was searching for a truth, a light. I am ready for Acts of Harm.
I’ve written the last three paragraphs as a middling thunderstorm in my area subsides, the wetness of the ground receding due to the arid heat that will eventually kill us all and a sun still too shy to fully show itself again. It’s early evening and I haven’t eaten dinner yet. Soon, I’ll eat; later, I’ll complete menial and, yes, mundane tasks to close out the night and prepare me for tomorrow, another day where mundanity will reign just like any other. About a month shy of my 35th birthday, I’m okay with all of this. I’m okay with life. I’m happy enough. Things could be better, they could definitely be worse. I find comfort in my cycle, even if the root of most of it is capitalism’s creaking lurch that couldn’t care less what I think or want. Part of living, or surviving, is spiteful – I’m also okay with this.
Listening to Acts of Harm is absurdly complementary of this life, a deluge of malaise by way of finely-crafted slow rock, but a life-affirming malaise. One that reminds you of your station on this planet, that things could be better (or worse) and birthing a desire to make them so. It’s seeing the light break through dense clouds, it’s smelling the petrichor to remind you of not only your own senses, but the natural beauty of all things. I’m not a spiritual or religious person at all, but music is where so much of those feelings are felt for me. Acts of Harm is a sort of gospel for life in that sense.
It meanders and crawls – not as if wounded, but perhaps exhausted, in search of a reason to continue on. It has a darkness and emptiness about it, like navigating your sparsely decorated post-divorce apartment with the blinds closed tight and no lights on. And yet so much of it is capable of power and strength as well, melodies propping you up just after the cold atmosphere buries you like an avalanche. Acts of Harm is resplendent and inclusive, just in black and white, plainly displayed in ways that some won’t vibe with, but it calls to others like a siren’s song. Some people will wait their whole lives to hear an album like this one, others never will. Regardless, the pull of time affects both equally. I can only hope we all find beauty in something like this – there’s already enough despair.
Outlander are inspirational in the same way leaving the hospital after a grueling, draining, weeks-long stay is. You step away with something important, a newfound clarity on things that’s either damning or revelatory. Maybe it begs you to appreciate the grayness of life, to relate to the brighter shades for once. Maybe it darkens your sight, enabling you to reflect back on all the goodness of the past as you prepare for a finality that’s fast approaching. Both can bring peace and calm. Acts of Harm represents an illusion of choice, where no matter how you interpret its gentle, textured walls of sound, it all returns the same outcome in the end. It cannot, will not change, just as this life won’t. And I’m okay with that.
