Minneapolis based home-recording artist Emanuel snuck this floating dream of choral pop into the world a month or so ago. What a curious thing it is! When The World Comes Crashing Down On You’s creative catalyst was to engage with the harshness of our day to day interactions, dissecting the barriers we put up to care for one another as well as ourselves. But for a song with such dark intent, there’s something strange and welcoming about the simplicity of its melody; it feels like the ghost of something heard before, giving the whole thing a hazy, dream-like quality… The rhythm occasionally stutters surprisingly and this subtly shifting beat certainly lends a sense of unease despite the beauty at its surface- matching the feelings of despondency and frustration that haunt the song’s lyrics.
“…don’t know if I can last/yeah, until this fucking thing has passed…”
There’s a gloriously amassed choral quality to the multitracked, polyglossic vocals- which on occasion dance to the edge of breaking point before pulling back. As for the ending… it certainly surprises… filling the empty spaces allowed throughout the song’s development with a sudden surge of instrumentation. Here we get bright, 80s piano twinkling like a honky tonk Casio keyboard, a noodling guitar squalling away and a hop-skipping increase in pace. Having spent the last 10 years experimenting with home recording (as well as visual arts), Emanuel has certainly developed a delicate touch and the emotive possibilities of music clearly matter here; that said, it’s lovely to hear the fun that was had in this track’s concluding moments; you can’t help but smile. In some ways though, this makes the overriding lyrical intent more cutting: the coda’s playful absurdity a stark contrast to the plaintive, space-rich ambience of what came before.
It was three years since a previous song made it out of this Minneapolis bedroom and into the world. Hopefully, we won’t have to wait so long for the next one. When The World Comes Crashing Down On You is a lovely song to sink slowly into. I suggest that you do.
Written by M. A. Welsh (Misophone)