I’m listening to the new Mount Eerie record, with a coffee, as I always do. It opens with one of the things I love about Mount Eerie, a self-referential call-back to a song from a long time ago (Let’s Get Out Of The Romance, Singers, 2005).
I heard that song first when I was going through a post-university fug of disquiet and uncertainty; indecision and lack of direction led to a retreat to my own self, and imagined self/ves. Of adventure, standing stridently at the edge of rocks, lungs full of air, Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog and all that. Not in a tiny duplex flat above a nail-salon or insurance broker, surrounded by notes from books I – perhaps three other people – have read and temporarily cared about. The song kicked me in the shin, mocking haughty escapism and avoidance; a loving plea to re-engage with the world.
It’s an ongoing refrain in my head, low-key mantra, and a constant reset function to avoid the hazy, opaque aloofness that can be intoxicating and destructive. Some times, it is more successful than others.
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nb. This is not the first time this song has been revisited by Mount Eerie; it also crops up beautifully in Flaming Home on Lost Wisdom (2008).