In college I was in a metal band called Perpetuate. We were only together for three years, but it was a very full and formative time. I learned a ton about myself, creativity, collaboration, and hard work. It was a huge growth spurt towards establishing who I am as a songwriter, musician, leader, and human. For awhile after it ended, I looked back on those days like maybe that was when my life peaked. Discussing philosophy after band practice over questionable alcoholic concoctions, crashing on the Rankin house couch. Packing the minivan and carrying giant cabs up and down narrow stairwells into dive bars with no monitors and sound techs who’d never seen a keyboard before. Making a crowd of strangers sing “I see you” in the coda of Inside Out, or clap 7/4 in Fight or Flight. Driving home after shows at 4am, pausing on the shoulder of the 401 to do jumping jacks to stay awake as the sun came up. It was hell and it was heaven.
Musically and vocally I’ve evolved a lot since those days. I still occasionally have hard rock or metal ideas, so I was thrilled over Christmas when Mike the drummer mentioned he had a bunch of riffs that didn’t feel right for either of his bands. Since then we’ve written a handful of songs over video chats and visits to Toronto. With each song we finish, I feel more enthusiasm. It’s such a joy to write in the same room, especially after years of friendship and growing through our other creative projects. The old model of Perpetuate was an asynchronous assembly line that culminated in me disappearing into a cave alone for two days to bleed out my feelings for lyrics. I’m glad that I’ve learned how to be vulnerable in songwriting, and I’m so grateful that lesson has transferred over to my real life as well. I will always write songs about what I’m going through, but it’s certainly something special to be writing about what I’m going through with the people I’m going through it with.
It’s also a joy that twelve years later we’re now adults with gear and we’re able to make our own demos, even over a distance. For a proper Perpetuate record we’ll always want work with Glenn Fricker; he’s a long-time friend who knows how to get mean metal tones and deeply understands what we’re going for aesthetically. Still it’s extremely satisfying to record at home, listen to playback and reflect on how far we’ve come in our skills and connection. KM
Don’t Let Go Of Me
Most days my smile shines like porcelain
While my shadow grows tall
It’s climbing up the wall
But when the sun goes down
And there’s no moon at all
My shadow’s like a cloud
And it surrounds me
If I speak the fears that are plaguing my mind
If I ask the questions burning inside
Will you recoil if I confide?
This night could be the death of me
Give me epiphany
Or apostasy
I want to break what’s left of me
And see what I believe
Just don’t let go of me
These days my fists are clenching in my sleep
From holding too tight
Or bracing for a fight
Your affection like a cage
Loving arms like a barricade
The same ones that kept me safe
Now make me suffocate
If I speak the fears that are plaguing my mind
If I ask the questions burning inside
Will you recoil if I confide?
This night could be the death of me
Give me epiphany
Or apostasy
I want to break what’s left of me
And see what I believe
Just don’t let go of me
It’s clawing out of my skin
I can’t deny what’s within
And in the absence of illusion
Will you accept the truth of who I am?
This night is not my enemy
It’s my identity
Maybe my destiny
And now it’s all that’s left of me
I know what I believe
Will you let go of me?
Will you let go of me?