Analogikal

I felt grief, heartbreak, loathing, love and despair. Most of all I felt the loss of hope, the loss of love and the loss of self. More importantly, I felt lost. I also felt. These songs put feelings into context. Helped me express, experience and release when I needed to. Here’s my grief recap.

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room — John Mayer

Most songs in this list are subtle. The words that brought meaning are usually buried under a few breaths. This one came right out of the blocks.

“It’s not a silly little moment
It’s not the storm before the calm
This is the deep and dyin’ breath of
This love that we’ve been workin’ on”

We had tried. At times her. At times me. But we both did. Incompatibility cannot be explained, excused or accused away. This song was the first step toward knowing what it felt like. The walls are on fire, the floor is hot, but you have closed your eyes because you are in a deep embrace. You don’t smell the smoke or the embers. You smell the pheromones from her hair because her head touches your chin every time she rests her head on your chest. You don’t hear the crackling of the fire, you listen to the slow song to which you are dancing.

My eyes were open. I couldn’t smell her. I was surrounded by a burnt down home and the embers of what I thought was permanence. The song was over. The dance was done. I just needed more time to make peace with it.

Self Control — Frank Ocean

Frank has found me in various places and moments. In the form of White Ferrari that took me to Lil Yachty who took me to Fred. In the form of the Blonde poster when I was in a 50 year old home in Goa. In the form of Lost when I wasn’t really lost. The Youtube algo played the live version of this song. Slow enough for me to pay attention. And the words slowly walked towards me. Stumbling a little. I did a double take to make sure they reached me. I had to stop and stare for them to come to me.

“Wish I was there, wish we’d grown up on the same advice
And our time was right”

We grew up on different advice. I learned to pacify aggression; you learned to call it emotional expression. I learned work was important to take care of yourself and the people around you; you thought work was something you could choose to do. We weren’t so different. We weren’t very far apart. We just could never meet in the middle. Our time wasn’t right.

Bleu (Better With Time) — Fred Again

This came before the others. Before the actual break-up. I was hopeful we could turn things around. We were made for each other. We were just having trouble. It was a silly little moment. Just a little misunderstanding. I was myopic, hopeful and a little naive. I was listening live. Still figuring out how I wanted things to be fixed.

I remember humming and reciting the lyrics over and over again all through Singapore. I thought it will all get better with time. This song gave me hope before I knew what was coming.

Der Lagi Lekin — ZNMD soundtrack

Most of what had to go down has gone down by the time this song finds me. I am in the backseat of a car in Goa. Two of my friends are ahead. I’ve spent all of yesterday in the front seat from Bangalore to Goa in autopilot. Ebbs and troughs of sadness, anxiety, loss and desperation coming and going. Wave after wave.

I am at the peak of my meltdowns — or the bottom of the valley of meltdowns. There isn’t a lot of light or hope. Just the constant repetition of chop wood, carry water. Go cycling, eat meals, talk to friends — then lie down and stare at the ceiling till 1 am only to wake up in cold sweat at 4 am to repeat the process again

Ab maine yeh jaana hai
Khushi hai kya, gham kya

Dono hi do pal ki hai ruttein
Na yeh thehre na ruke

More sorrow than hope at this point. The song served as a reminder of who I was before I met her and fell in love. I existed long before she came and I have to exist long after she has gone. I keep pedalling through the ascents and the ones after that from Mapusa to Asagao, because that is who I am; stubbornly committed. I tear my plantar fascia during a game of football. That is also who I am; fiercely competitive. I spend the rest of the days taking care of myself while reminding myself how amazing I can be; because that’s who I’ve always been: Kanye. The ones reading this will get the joke.

Hand Me Downs — Mac Miller

At this point, the Youtube algorithm had become my morning guide. With the slow process of brewing coffee on a pour over dripper, the music served as a distraction as well as a backdrop on which I painted my feelings in the morning. Brewing coffee gave me the anchor that held my mornings together. Sometimes at 4 am sometimes at 7. It was consistent.

I got obsessed with Mac after listening to this song. The new Marshall speakers pair well with the opening beats to this song. A warm timbre to them. On the hundredth repeat, the words came up clearly.

And all I ever needed was somebody with some reason who can keep me sane
Ever since I can remember, I’ve been keepin’ it together, but I’m feelin’ strange.

This was a lot to ask for. You had your demons and I was a reflection of those demons for you. I was done keeping it together for both of us. When you left you dumped your demons in my yard. They keep knocking to this day. I have learnt to live with them by now. At this point, they were running the show. This song gave me the perspective. I have always kept my shit together. All I needed was someone with some reason, someone who could see. I wish I had paid attention when I started feeling strange.

Let Down — Radiohead

Ever since I listened to Jigsaw Falling Into Place on Pandora in 2014 on the company wi-fi, Radiohead has been a staple on my playlist. Medha whispered the lyrics to No Surprises during our 10th date. You brought back Radiohead into my life through The Bear.

At this point the torn fascia has started healing. I finally have shoes in which I can walk. I am out in a park in Dubai. I am running and walking as much as the fascia will allow. I am weeping like a child.

You know, you know where you are with
You know where you are with

The chorus is on repeat. I keep rewinding to the part where the music crescendos and the voices multiply. I pull the hoodie over my head and just bawl. I hit play again. I run. I cry. I come back the next day. Do the same thing. And the next day. I am grateful to Delroy and Alisha. To Aparna and Shilpa. To Ruhi. To Mathew. To Shikha and my grandchild. To everyone who offered me asylum and safety during this time. To everyone who made me feel more like myself again. I knew who I was with. It didn’t matter if the floor had collapsed. I was still hanging on.

Talk Is Cheap — Chet Faker

I have done 50,000 lines of chatting with LLMs trying to see where I went wrong. I am 8 months into therapy; 5 months into the break up. I see through some of your bullshit. ChatGPT reassures me. I push back. I don’t want reassurance. I want answers. Answers that only you could have given. Answers I will never get.

And talk is cheap, my darling
When you’re feeling right at home

Everything you said in the email read like projection. You got an arranged marriage done. You moved on. You took all my stuff and left me with the version of events only you got to tell. And tell you did. With time the words have faded, so have their intensity. My conversations with your shadow have quieted. When talk is cheap, conversations are better left unfinished.

Tezeta — Mulatu Astatke

This song has no words. I had heard it a long time ago. When I was a different person, wearing a younger man’s shoes – sorry, Billy Joel. It served as a time capsule. Took me back to a lost sense of joy, whimsy and belonging. I was slowly out of my shell and the constant pain. I am sleeping now. Sleeping better will come soon enough.

Out Getting Ribs — King Krule

I heard a cover by Young Mazimo who played a role in Beef on Netflix. Beef was the first series I watched after the break up. I went and listened to the King Krule version. By now my sleep had been restored. My appetite was back and so was my curiosity. I looked up the song:

“Out Getting Ribs” takes its title from a 1987 pencil-on-paper piece from Jean Michel Basquiat.”

Basquiat wrote this note while privately grieving the tragic death of his close friend Andy Warhol. The title reflects a contrast between gutting, devastating emotional grief and ordinary, everyday actions (stepping out just to grab food).

This is where I was. I had been grieving. I was also doing my thing; brewing coffee, working out, lighting candles, smoking cigarettes, gifting food and eating cheek burgers (story for another time).

And hate runs through my blood
Well, my tongue was in love
But my heart was left above
I’ve got to be leaving now

I was done grieving. I was done hating you. I could hold the nuance; you suffered, so did I. Neither of us were bad people. We were incompatible. We just didn’t know how to fix it. That’s okay. Things take time; bad or good. You don’t know which is which while you’re in the middle of it. I had to go out and get some ribs. It took me 9 months.

Vielleicht Vielleicht — MilleniumKid × JBS

Certifiable 10/10 banger!

I was done searching for meaning and method. I had made peace. My Youtube algorithm knew it. When Vielleicht Vielleicht started playing, I remember going on a 3 day German techno bender. Curiosity got the better of me and I went searching for the meaning: This song is about the early stages of a relationship when everything is so wonderful and you hope it will last forever, but there’s always this nagging feeling that it won’t.

At this point, it didn’t matter. I didn’t need a song to give my life meaning or make sense of what was happening within and around me. I could just bang my head, make my moves and enjoy the German techno. I was Caramel Berliner again.

I was done with this journey 3 months ago. I just wanted to be sure before I wrote about this. I don’t have non-stop thoughts in my head any more. I am back to the garden variety anxiety. Usual programming has returned. But these songs and the emotions associated with them will remain. They got me through something I never thought I would get out of when I was in the middle of it. Countless nights spent fighting shadows and words that were invisible and would never be returned. I was lost. For a while there, I had lost the essence of who I was. These songs were breadcrumbs that took me through this journey. Thanks for being around. I love you. Till next time.