In the modern world – which is as post-apocalyptic as it can get so far – you have become convinced that the whirring of a machine is much more calming than a palpitating heart full of blood and much more effectual at putting you to sleep. And sleep is where you want to be: a state of unfeeling, unawareness, unconsciousness, especially when it seems like all you do is languish in self-doubt when you are awake and alert. You are not simply conscious; you are also concomitantly self-conscious.
And the Irish alternative-emo three-piece band Haunted Images has condensed this complex sentiment into a five-minute anthemic score consisting of a minimalist, modest, melancholic guitar riff that makes it instantly recognizable, with a sluggish drum beat backing the background piano melody with a couple of lyrical nods to an apocalyptic scenario.
Vocalist David O’Farrell-MacGeary’s vocals sound like they are protruding out from a hazy dream, dazed and slurred. When he says, “I feel like a prisoner / I just can’t escape”, you can deduce that he is talking about getting out of the dream world in which he is now stuck and from which he is sending this message. This dream world used to be a reprieve from the real world. It seems like a good deal. Give up your humanity and you get to have eternal peace. But just like you find out in the book with the title this song references – Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? – androids still dream of electric sheep. You cannot divest yourself of your humanity. Even in your sleep, you are still you and there is no getting out of that. And in the song David sings, “I’m tired of counting electric sheep all of the night”, which signifies that he has already made this deal. He has already given way to becoming a machine, to shedding his humanness because he is counting electric sheep, but it also shows that he is still human because he is still counting sheep, electric or otherwise.
This song has a dualism to it that makes it very interesting. At the beginning of the song, David goes, “I start believing in things that don’t exist / When life has lost all meaning and nothing seems to make sense.” This would tell you that this is where we are starting: with a sense of nihilism. But then later on, he asks for clarity: “If I’m looking for clarity / Just tell me where I can find some now”. This contradicts the beginning lines, because these lines insinuate that all is not lost, that he has not tried everything, that there is still hope.
In fact, this is not the only sign David gives of hope still being possible in this cesspool of stagnation and sluggishness. backed by the lazy tempo of the languid drums. When David goes to sing the line, “Nothing changes, nothing changes, nothing changes”, there is a key change. It could be a subliminal, tacit implication that despite saying he believes nothing will ever change, he is still holding out hope that it will.
He says “It’s all the time and it’s never ending”, referring to the mutually exclusive need to sleep and escape, although sleep has stopped being a respite, so it doesn’t matter if he is asleep or awake. He says “I sleep through the day,” because nothing marks the difference between day and night anymore. But then there is that key change, and immediately after it, there is an instrumental lull followed by an explosive finish that is bookended by that same tendril of a guitar riff with which we started, like one final struggle before giving up.
That final struggle is the most human thing of all. And whether we sleep or not, or count sheep or electric ones, at the end of the day, there is no escaping being human.
Take a listen to “Electric Sheep” below.
Written by Leo August
