Finding solidarity and comfort with ever.
Certain relationships can become an inextricable aspect of our identities. So when they end, a period of intense self-reflection proceeds as you sift through what it means to be you in a new and invariably uncomfortable context. I’ve spent an embarrassingly large chunk of my teenage/early adulthood years on bathroom floors, finding solace on the cold tiles of dirty floors after screaming matches were had and words were carelessly thrown. The worst part of the breakup is the aftermath, when the dust settles and the piercing silence pervades the now unbearably empty space. As I repeatedly found myself alone, I became acutely aware of my misplaced autonomy and sense of self that had become so dependent on the other. However painful and lonely, break ups can help reintroduce you to yourself, unearthing your own distinct identity and coming to terms with your faults on those cold, charmingly ugly bathroom tiles.
The ever LP but I am evokes these powerful emotions that arise during this uncomfortable transition and unwarranted period of self-discovery, the shedding of skin you weren’t quite ready to abandon. ever aka Emily Davis' melancholic lyrics paired with delicate vocals are set against a backdrop of minimal guitar riffs that create an intimate experience. The vulnerability conveyed is admirable and incredibly relatable, revealing the emotional turmoil that we’ve all endured during the dissolution of a relationship. The resulting atmosphere is imbued with a sense of mourning and tangible remorse that allows for a cathartic experience. The album’s journey is reminiscent of the stages of grief, with Davis’ lyrics comprised of poignant candor, constructing vivid imagery that transports listeners to the specific phases of heartbreak. The album opens with “all these things,” illustrating the beginning of the end with lyrics like “Don’t you know you’re my best friend / I’d love you till the very end / But you build me up just to tear me down.” As the album continues, we’re able to witness her progression through anger, denial, depression, finally arriving at the inevitable acceptance of what was lost. ever’s remarkably honest and personal LP allows you to feel less alone in those moments of solitude and silence, finding solidarity and comfort in her words like those cold floor tiles.
Listen to ever on bandcamp.
THIS STAFF POST WAS CONTRIBUTED BY:
Carolina Delgado is an over-sharer and bad whisperer whose primary love language is physical touch. She resides in Margaritaville and is in a long-term relationship with Aubrey Graham. However, her relationship with reality is tenuous at best. She dreams of a day when guac isn’t extra.