The tracks the made Age
Find a mixtape of the tracks here.
A couple of days ago, I wandered onto Bandcamp after what must’ve probably been several months. I had just discovered this compilation album by an artists' collective in India that donates 100% of its profits to vulnerable communities across India in the face of Covid-19.
After listening to and buying that album, my surfing around brought me to my own Bandcamp releases. First I skipped through an album I made in support of a book I got published but never promoted, music that I consider my most embarrassing 'til date, but an album that would’ve had a good CD booklet, if that was the sort of world in which we lived. Then, I listened to a house-inspired album that I still like and have re-released. Then I moved on to what was supposed to be my side project, but one which both I and seemingly everybody else much preferred over what was originally intended to be my main musical project.
Then, I started going through Private uploads.
In my world, private uploads consist of songs and albums so embarrassing that I’ve allowed nobody access. Of these was an album (called Mainstream | Under the Covers) that I recorded almost exactly five years ago. I remember recording it in much the same way that I recorded everything back then, by singing and playing the guitar into the laptop mic, and playing some synthesised drums and synth parts on my laptop's keyboard. To be honest, my recording process is not much more sophisticated today, with my two-thousand rupee mic and recently acquired MIDI keyboard, and hanging-on-desperately-for-dear-life acoustic guitar. But still, I have a house and equipment and so much more, so count your many blessings, Akhil; name them one by one, Akhil.
Mainstream | Under the Covers consisted mainly of poorly recorded and horribly produced covers with one exception: a four-part original composition called Age, which made up close to 40% of the album’s runtime. The song sounded like what it was: a guy attempting to make a Queens Of The Stone Age song with a rusty old guitar and a laptop and not much time between work and trying to figure out what life is about and trying, and failing, to not fall for a girl.
Ah, to be 24. So many of life's events, good and bad, have happened in the five years since I shouted those songs at my MacBook. And that fact is reflected in the simplicity and innocence of Age.
Take for instance, its central theme of social anxiety and agoraphobia as evidenced by the lyrics of the first of its four parts.
“There’s a big bad wolf outside, stay indoors.
He’s got a katana in his hands, stay indoors.
Wear your helmet when you walk out in the rain.
In the forest where there’s nowhere to hide and no wolves to claim.”
Five years since I made (and subsequently hid) that song, it has helped me figure out how to complete my first album since 2017. I've been working on some or the other sort of new album since 2018 now. First, I struggled to find a sound I liked, not as Omega Oblivion, not as Benji M, but as myself. After hundreds of unreleased attempts at music for about two years, I finally had a eureka moment of sorts in January of this year. I’ve spent the months since working on new material, and have been putting the best of these tracks out as and when I’m done with them.
I found the conceptual thread almost right at the start, finding inspiration in a social anxiety that’s been severely exacerbated by the outpouring of hate back home and globally. And of course hope and love and all that good stuff. But in Age, that simple three-chord song cycle with surreal lyrics about agoraphobia, I found the musical thread I needed to complete the album.
Goes to show that a lot of spiritual mumbo jumbo holds within it kernels of truth. Even the things that most embarrass you contain within them inspiration. Beauty is everywhere. Don't be ashamed of who you used to be, it shows you how much you've improved. Carpe Diem. Seize the day. You can do it. Original prankster. The monk who sold his Ferrari.
