Review Summary: I've been stripped down, time and time again.
It was a total nightmare. I had travelled practically across the continent to see the girl I love. Obviously, it’s unrequited in a very fundamental sense, but I was sure I could handle it just fine. I couldn’t. Not even close. She had a guy in there. We were sitting out in the evening and she kept leaning on this guy, holding him tight, kissing him. It would be an understatement to say it was tough for me to watch. I had hard time breathing properly. I was feeling anxious in a level I’ve never experienced before. I’ve always been the kinda guy who wears his heart on his sleeve but I couldn’t say anything, of course, I didn’t want to cause any drama. I probably never will. All I know is I just had to get out of there.
Sure, none of this has much to do with what Funeral Diner’s ”I Was the Sword” is about, but that’s the memory I always picture when listening to the song. It’s not even a case where I heard the song in that moment. There is just something brutally devastating about it, something that makes me somehow very deeply connect with probably the most turbulent individual emotional moment I’ve ever had. There is an ethereal feel to ”I Was the Sword”, but it’s not a satisfying feel at all. The rather twinkly, layered guitars and the angelic vocals seem blissful on the surface level but it actually feels like you’re entering a storm. And that’s exactly what happens, as it all bursts out to a heavy, tearful climax in a frantic fashion. There is powerful honesty and a weird sense of mystique behind that muddy wall of sound, something that draws me in every time. I need an escape. What Funeral Diner have done here is one of the greatest, most addictive pieces of music in the emo scene.
Oh, and the Ampere side of the split is pretty good too.