In Peaceful In The Absence, Brooklyn-based Michael Matsakis has crafted an ode to the ever-shifting paradigms of thought that occur when we try to outrun our own anxieties. Described by the artist as “[a reminder] that I truly am prepared for nothing”– the album has a lot to say– about nothing. And I mean that literally, as the word nothing comes up many times throughout the album. As an overthinker myself, I was drawn to this album like a moth to flame. And it did not disappoint.
Genre-wise, we’re talking a medley of slowcore, experimental rock, ambient, and psychedelia. Given Michael’s engineering background, it is no surprise that the production is on point. The odyssey of sound ranges from harmonious, soothing melodies to melancholic cacophony, sometimes within a single song. Each song has a multilayered story to tell, using sound and space to evoke themes of nature and growth. There’s quite a bit of creativity with how each instrument is expressed here, making each song a treat.
In “standing outside” and “gardening”, we’re introduced to the main theme of the album– an all encompassing quest to “be prepared for nothing”. “Everything, then nothing” revisits this theme of nothingness, a slower song that is both mournful and wistful. Anxious whispers ( “am I nervous or dehydrated?”) are paired with a softly plucked guitar that slowly swells and builds, as cymbals crash and distorted guitar emerges, before concluding “and then comes everything // and then nothing”.
I found it a helpful reflection on the futility of trying to overthink things– how we end up cycling back around to the same concerns that we start on. We try to hold on to certainty, to ourselves, and find the search takes us deep into the swirling abyss of our own insecurities. In “sweetness”, a contrast is drawn between the artist’s insecurities (“I’m sinking down to the bottom of what I don’t deserve”) and simple pleasures in life (“a dog patiently waiting for me // or friends supporting friends”). I fully relate to wanting to be there for others and not fully knowing if I can even be there for myself.
As the album goes on, there is a sense of acceptance, even wisdom, that the artist has gleaned from his exploration of his insecurities. “I know nothing now” starts off with a sleepy bedroom pop vibe before opening up into gritty post-punk, lamenting “even still I // want to feel // peaceful in the absence”, and then concluding with a satisfying guitar solo. “it gets a little bit better before it gets a whole lot worse” follows, a short but sweet track reflecting on the transience of self.
This isn’t an album that brings with it any concrete answers, or profound realizations on how we can escape anxiety. Rather, it invites the listener to question themself along with the artist. The final song “dert” seems to conclude that the only thing that’s waiting for us at the end is the earth itself. I do find that comforting. There is a limit to how much we can overthink, eventually we realize that life is short and we’re best off accepting ourselves as imperfect, and moving forward.
For the overthinkers among us, and listeners looking for an experimental rock album to take them on an inward journey, give this record a try. You might even find your own way to be “peaceful in the absence” along the way.
Written by Jason Toby
