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.
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).