Review Summary: Of all the faces on the wall in the hallway
I'm still alive?
Every so often, I will stumble upon an album that feels as if it was hand-crafted especially for me. Upon first listen it seems like only an unfamiliar assortment of notes, but overtime they become comfortable and endearing. After my initial cancer diagnoses, I found myself listening to the album Love in the Void by Hammock, and becoming totally captivated. On my long drives from the radiation clinic to work, it was easy to get lost in its brooding soundscapes and droning guitars. There is a strong sense of anticipation in most post-rock efforts, and here is no different. The title track begins with quiet ambience, slowly adding in percussion and accompanying synths that eventually crescendo into an empowering guitar melody. Each moment of somber reflection seems to be followed by consolation, like a reassuring dream that things will get better. Even the song titles took on a personal meaning for me: It’s OK to Be Afraid of the Universe. I Would Stare into the Sun with You Forever. Will We Ever Be Ourselves Again. The track, Undoing, is one that I found myself returning to the most often. There is something so heartening about the vocals here, almost enveloping the listener in a warm aura.
Music has this incomparable ability to weld itself to our memories, for better or for worse. Sometimes, songs become so intertwined with a sequence of events that it is nearly impossible to untangle them. When this happens, a simple set of notes can highlight joyful moments, or crystallize sorrowful ones. For me, Love in the Void has done just that. For me, the most poignant moment comes in one of the last tracks, Denial of Endings: “And all the faces on the wall in the hallway. Tell me someday I'm gonna die. Of all the faces on the wall in the hallway, I'm still alive? I'm still alive.” Throughout these last few months after enduring surgery and radiation, I have pondered to myself why I was fortunate enough to have a relatively mild form of cancer, because I know of many friends and family members who have had their world shattered by terminal diagnoses. The best I can do now is live in hope, grateful for another day in the sun.
