John Kolodij — First Fire/At Dawn
When Nobody first informs William Blake that the bullet he has absorbed due to a jealous lover’s misunderstanding is too close to his heart, it’s a relatable parable for an audience that feels this sort of pain as it wanders through a life half-lived. It is the essence of “At Dawn” from John Kolodij (High Aura’d, many-a-collaborations). This is not due to the steely western flourishes of Kolodij’s guitar playing, the minimalist percussion of Sarah Hennies, or the forlorn fiddle of Anna Rg, but merely the memory of what it’s like to feel and to know that all the emotion within oneself — even if they live a long, healthy life — will never be enough. There will always be an existential threat to our hearts, if not a physical one.
Longing turns to dread with “First Fire,” and though “First Fire” is technically the A-side to this cassette, it’s eerie cadence as we descend into the depth of hell works better for my own narrative. Allow me this brief moment of selfishness.
Hell is not a physical trip, but rather a philosophical one. Who are we as people when we detach — or are forcefully removed from — our emotions? What (not who) do we become? It seems there is no coming back from this place. Once the searing hot flames touch you, you are cleansed from ever feeling again. That bullet lodged near your aorta is merely an interior tattoo, and it too will be washed in fire and rendered useless. The tool used to remind you what it’s like to feel will be gone in the white hot.
But you can’t forget this cassette. So make sure you keep in on your person somewhere. It will serve as a reminder to not travel where no person should ever dare to tread. Do not throw yourself into the conscious depths of hell. Stay here, stay with us, and remember what it’s like to swell and bloat with the pangs of emotion while listening to great music.
