Owning Heartbreak in Not to Disappear
[vc_row][vc_column][title type="subtitle-h6"]Colten Parr[/title][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width="11/12"][vc_column_text]
The truth is that some of the worst depression has produced some of the greatest art. Something in sadness stretches the human psyche to create beauty from ashes, poetry from pain, and hope from despondency. Early this year, Daughter released a record that does just that.
Composed of trio Elena Tonra on vocals and guitar, Igor Haefeli as lead guitarist, and Remi Aguilella on drums, the band bridles heartache and despair in “Not to Disappear” through empowered existentialism. The theme of heartbreak and its consequences run constant through the band’s work, and whereas, “If You Leave” was birthed in the heaviest throes of heartbreak, “Not to Disappear” grows out of its bitter acceptance. Having a style at once dreamy and despairing, Daughter matches in music the eloquent despondency of their lyrics. Each song adds another element to a running narrative of heartbreak continued from the previous album. After listening a few times through, the vague narrative of Tonra’s personal story begins to flesh out: she’s dumped and heartbroken, accused of smothering, and dealing with the bitter aftermath of heartbreak.
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While the previous album was saturated in dejection, despair, and death, Daughter takes hold of their darkness in “Not to Disappear.” Building on themes of loss and post-relationship heartache, the album is as heartbreaking and depressing as ever. This time around, Tonra owns her angst. Singing from the aftermath of an existential crisis, she asks pointed questions about whether she’s “wasting time,” whether she’s “doing the right thing,” and whether she’s “holding onto veneers.” After being stripped from her everything, Tonra looks towards nature and asks “how can the stars / distance into daylight / like it’s all alright?” If she’s a victim, she’s a victim of life.
Opening with “New Ways,” the record commences in disillusionment. Lethargically and quietly the drum taps, the guitar rings, and Tonra ghosts into the song so as to not even be noticed: “Washed out brain / I have a dirty mind / Oh, I need new ways to waste my time.” Continuing the narrative of heartbreak, Tonra confesses the futility of her fantasies for the one she lost - a frustration she acknowledges frequently in the new album. “Alone / With You” weighs the pros and cons of life without an ex-partner. Admitting “I hate sleeping alone” and a stanza later “I hate sleeping with you,” Tonra confronts her conflicted desires and takes steps towards moving on. “Made of Stone” examines the cynicism that often succeeds heartbreak. Vulnerable confessions throughout the album such as “I should be feeling more” culminate to reflect a change in attitude to something not quite hopeful, but empowered nonetheless.
Encountering life’s absurdity while disoriented in depression, the singer stops demanding justice for life’s unfairness and bitterly accepts her lot from a stance of empowered existentialism. One can’t help but to cheer for Tonra who lets out harbored hate, “I hate living with you,” and suggests for herself moving forward, “I should get a dog or something.” The embittered refrain of, “No Care” reflects a new cooperation with the reality of her existence. She asserts her own autonomy by refusing to be possessed, “I don’t want to belong, to you, to anyone.” She suggests she is made of stone, acknowledging a willful indifference toward life.
The album isn’t something you want to drink a whole bottle of wine to and cry-write in your journal after you’ve just been broken up with. It’s what you listen to when something leaves you devastated and you’re unapologetically pissed and you want to ride with the windows down in your car singing “I don’t care, I don’t care anymore.” This is perfect listening material for existential crises, studying, and just like Daughter, I don’t care what else.
“Not to Disappear” conveys a hopeful existentialism empowered by telling our stories. The lyrics are raw and personal. Their confessional content reflects a deep value for authenticity at heart in the work. Tonra sings her story in haunting verse, refuses to succumb to cynicism, and promises in the last line of the record, “You’ll find love, kid / it exists.”
Whether that be a hope or a curse, “Not to Disappear” is a blessing that deserves a listen.
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