All this talk of bands breaking up (well, of one band breaking up), makes one muse on the cycle of musical groups. Some acts depart from the scene after a short-lived stint, only to reconfigure under different names. Other bands never make it that far. And still others stick around long after their relevance has expired. For instance, think of your favourite band(s). Are they still playing? Are they new-ish? Are they dead and gone, but so entrenched a part of your personal narrative that you simply cannot let them go? Furthermore, think about those acts who come and go before you even knew they were there, leaving you with that dull ache that accompanies missing out. Is the ache greater than experiencing a band in full, seeing them live, then watching as they fade and depart exactly as they started--their music a reminder of what we can't regain?
I was walking down Roches street in Limerick, Ireland. It must have been late Summer, or maybe early Autumn. The air was crisp and smelled lightly of sea water. As I explored the city centre, a tall, pasty looking boy eating a corn dog thrust a black-and-white pamphlet into my hands, the words Explosions in the Sky in Helvetica bold across the top. I had only been away from my little Midwest America, indie rock scene for a few months--fresh off the boat, as it were--and the flimsy flyer in my hand was almost nostalgic of a life I'd left behind.
At the Tavern bar (the redundancy of the name never ceased to amuse me), there was no stage; rather, there was a corner. We stood around, pints in hand, and swayed methodically as Explosions ripped through their set. This was back in 2002, remember. The band had only one album and an ep out, so the obvious reaction was to compare them with Mogwai, who had just released Rock Action a few months previous. I talked to a few people after the set as we waited at the bar and the general consensus was that Explosions in the Sky were neat, but that the whole loud-soft-loud trick had been done, and had been done better. I left unimpressed. It wasn't until years later I realised I had overlooked a very important detail: Explosions in Sky were architects of harmony. In simple terms, each song begins with a refrain, which transitions to a greater refrain--major chord stacked on major chord. A simple concept made achingly beautiful. A bit like lasagna: it's so easy, but goddamn if it isn't delicious.
And while Mogwai rightfully left the indie-indeed, loud-soft-loud gimmick behind in early 2000 for a more Radiohead-esque, digital bent, Explosions took the best parts of the idea and made it their own. One need only listen to the opening track from All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone to hear how the band continues to construct music, rather than just play it. Truly, their mixture of notes, distortions, and noise is the foundation on which some of my memories are laid. Even now, when I hear "Your Hand in Mine", I am back in Ireland, unnerved by the smell of the ocean; secretly wishing I was someplace else. While it can't last forever, I for one will miss the explosions when they are gone.
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