I’ve made it no secret that nature is an immense influence on not only my life, but my music as well. Whether it’s the frostbitten depths of winter that reveal more black metal elements, or the return of life and color as spring energizes a more somber soundtrack, seasons play an integral role in the melodies that come out of this macabre mind. While fall may be the key focus when it comes to Autumns Eyes aura and personality, there is one season that always proves to be the most challenging when seeking some form of thought-provoking inspiration.
Summer.
The hot, dreary, sticky, sweaty, short-wearing, sand-tossing summer season. A goth metal musician’s worst nightmare in more ways than you can shake an upside-down cross at. Despite its tumultuous relationship with pale-faced solitude seekers, there are a few things I’ve learned over the years to help combat this dreaded season. Things that not only made it tolerable, but helped me extract actual influence on my music in a unique way much like every other season has done in the past.
I’ll start by explaining exactly why I find summer to be such a challenge when writing this type of music. Gothic metal to be more specific. A thick, heavy, somber, and dramatic style of music that begs to be heard loud and engulfed in isolation. It’s a style that easily lends itself to many different landscapes. A snowy mountain surrounded by storm clouds, a cold windy trail down in the woods where leaves dance over the earth, and even a rainy day where all but grey can be seen for miles. However, one scene is never considered in this aspect, the beach. A great destination here in New England when you’re drenched in sweat from the countless heat waves that wash over you like a soul-sucking shower of sadness. Granted, the beach is a beautiful place to spend time, but it’s the last place I’d ever imagine finding any source of inspiration to write heavy music.
As if trouncing around in shorts and tank tops wasn’t bad enough for one’s metal morale, there also comes a point when the heat forces you to stay inside for countless hours. Heat warnings and severe weather alerts make even basic tasks like mowing the lawn impossible without the threat of heat exhaustion kicking your ass in ways you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemies. Unless of course your enemies deserve to spin within their own heads, drowning in sweat, with anxiety creeping into their bones like vicious spiders extracting every ounce of sanity you have left. Even when you’re stuck inside, you might think about trying to get some work done, which is almost as energy-inducing as a brisk jog through hot lava. The whole idea of summer revolves around vacation, and that vibe alone irritates every thought of work that creeps into my head. With the heat outside preventing any tasks from getting done, and the lack of motivation inside leaving me a lifeless husk of lost intention, how the fuck does one find any way out?
The moment I realized summer was not as bad as I made it out to be was years ago when I stopped trying to fight the season and accepted it for what it was. I used to be one of those people celebrating Halloween on July 5, eager to get my pumpkin spice on. Only to find every year I did that, it made the Halloween season less enthusiastic once it actually arrived. I made some compromises here and there, with horror movies being one of the strange saviors that kept my black little heart beating deep down. For reasons I can only chalk up to obsessive habit, I used to reserve horror movies strictly for the fall season. Letting go of that self-imposed rule helped me ease into the summer months with a bit more chaotic comfort.
Horror movies aren’t just about drowning in blood, gore, fear, and terror. Sure, those are some of the fun elements, but for me it’s the nostalgia attached to them. The reminder of years when I’d watch these movies on TV as a kid, or visit the local video store to gaze at all the horror boxes and read the descriptions. Those memories still burn just as vividly as they did decades ago. Limiting them to certain months was a mistake, and unlocking that door let me tap into a dose of nostalgia right when I needed it most.
Music is a different beast, and I still keep certain bands off-limits until the autumn months arrive. Bands like Type O Negative, Cradle of Filth, Moonspell, and a few more are only to be heard during these months due to their immense power of influence over my music. I almost see it as a secret weapon, since every fall marks the start of a new recording cycle for me. And what better spark than a collection of bands that flood my ears with bliss during the months I crave more than any other time of year?
Where does that leave my musical taste during the summer months then? That’s where things typically involve more discovery that can easily turn into inspiration later on. I use the summer months to go hunting for new bands, new music, or new songs I’ve never heard before. This keeps things fresh and builds a new landscape of motivation for me to choose from when recording kicks off later in the fall.
With these slight tweaks to my behavior over the years, it allowed me to embrace summer for what it was. A casual time where sunshine could prove to be just as invigorating as the moonlight. It went from being a season I loathed every year to one I look forward to with an almost childlike enthusiasm. Free from the barriers I once kept up for no good reason. Barriers that prevented me from enjoying my life to the fullest. The older I get, the easier it is to trim the fat from my life. Whether that’s negative people that drag me into their unnecessary depths of depression, or even the selfish behaviors that plagued my daily habits, letting go has never felt more beneficial.
If you told me long ago that a day would come when I’d look forward to walking the beach in a pair of dad shorts, kicking up sand, and smiling to a Beach Boys song, I’d have stabbed you in the throat with a feather pen. Well, not that violent, but I probably would have at least considered it. Today? Not so much. That grim, dark, and deranged guy is still in there, but he’s more refined, more responsible, and more approachable.
Seasons are a great inspiration not only to myself, but to many others who look forward to their arrival. They change every year, offering new and exciting elements to experience with every fleeting glimpse. They aren’t directly responsible for the man I am today, but they certainly helped guide me along the path I took to get here. I can’t imagine a world without them. And perhaps that’s where that other guy would have ended up, lost in a place where change and growth weren’t possible.
