Party of the Mind
Reflections on Adrian Borland and The Sound
Reflections on Adrian Borland and The Sound
Discovering this band felt like being hit by a lighting bolt. I no longer try to explore a genre from head to toe upon discovery. There was a time when, if something like post-punk was put in from of me, I'd basically scour the Wikipedia of the genre for all the noteworthy groups (Joy Division, The Fall, Public Image Ltd., etc.) and ingest it all. Doing so could unintentionally create a distance, where I'd have a more surface connection to the music over a more intimate one. The same trap would also occur when I'd listen to an entire band's discography right way, often over the span of days or weeks. I've avoided the trap with bands I connect to most, but it's an easy trap when music is so readily available. Over time, I've moved away from taking genres and discographies on at once in favor of a more fragmented approach: simply finding an album that feels right and focusing my attention on what it is. Doing this long enough has led me down a road where the music only feels increasingly deeper over time.
A band that easily fell through the cracks in the early exploration of post-punk is The Sound. Fronted by Adrian Borland, this is the band that was at the bottom of the laundry list of acts often discussed in the genre, especially during the aughts, when many other millennials were devouring as much of these genres as they could through CDs and file-sharing. They're the kind of band that forms an immediate impression with the strength of Borland's undeniable magnetism in performance and composition. This is the band that feels like an amalgamation of everything I could possibly want from the genre and in a band.
The firs time I heard "Winning", it struck me for hitting every conceivable feeling of defiant resilience in the face of adversity. It felt like the soundtrack to my life at the time. It isn't tinged with the typical joyousness that comes with such easily celebratory sentiment. The driving bass from Graham Bailey and Borland's soulful delivery evokes a profound understanding of the very stakes involved in losing the battle against the quiet hum of suffering. The act of "Winning" isn't easy, it's excruciatingly difficult, and yet there is an essential tribute that must be paid to the pain of that journey. "Winning" is a sonic cathedral that pays respect to that process.
It's impossible to talk about the band without mentioning Borland's tragic fate. He was an artist of great potential that lost the battle with his declining mental health, likely due to schizoaffective disorder. He took his own life and is now a part of the "tortured genius" canon, a narrative that I absolutely despise no matter the artist, but it's inescapable. What's resulted is a long, morbid shadow that casts a shadow over the band's work. The theme present in "Winning" takes on another meaning when seen as a soundtrack to better days in struggling with mental health. It's a deeply relatable sentiment, even if the personal struggle isn't Borland's diagnosis. Songs such as "Whirlpool" casts this struggle with a wider net, speaking in terms of generational peers that are lost to the "Whirlpool" that "takes the best of us". It's a warning, working in contrast to the sense of victory in "Winning". No matter the wins, there's no "Sense of Purpose" in the spin of failing health and misfortune that can befall anyone at any time.
There are always easily inferred allusions to this battle throughout their work. These echoes can be heard in tracks like "I Can’t Escape Myself":
So many feelings
Pent up in here
Left all alone, I'm with
The one I most fear
I'm sick and I'm tired
Of reasoning
Just want to break out
Shake off this skin
I, I can't
Escape myself
It cuts to the deep angst of those first and many bursts of growing pains that come with entering young adulthood. It can be as a soundtrack to the battle with the ego, a pained dark night with the soul. With awareness of Borland's battles, it's a cry of agony with the horrors of constrained agency that comes with an inescapable disorder.
A song that comes even closer to disclosing Borland's disorder, "Party of The Mind":
He details what could easily be an expressive list of symptoms for the feeling others dancing around in his mind. A scene is drawn of disparate figures of different personalities and motivations coming together to have a party. With their presence comes chaos and an unnerving sense that "Some things aren't how they should be". It's a song that creates a danceable beat to the madness evoked, a constant pulse that feels like amphetamine. Borland's playing is jarring and rhythmic, becoming increasingly erratic and charged as the song progresses. By the end, screeching, chalkboard scratching sounds come in with a cacophony of voices, a sense of nefarious laughter and purpose. It's easily the darkest song in their discography, especially for anyone who's been unfortunate enough to have been touched, even temporarily, with the madness depicted.
There's a coolness to the feel of the Sound that keeps it from ever being excessively morbid. Adrian Borland is clearly a confident performer that rides the wave of the music as if he's leaning his entire being into it. Watching him perform is just as satisfying as listening to the music by itself. It's easy to see that he's feeling every bit of it throughout his body. At the same time, he extends a control over his body in its movements, taking to singing and playing guitar like he was born to it.
The band has another essential side to paint a complete picture. Despite the ease of fixating on the morbid, there are refreshing turns taken to the romantic. When Borland isn't meditating on struggle, he's pouring out his soul in longing for love that is just as a bit as strong, a complement for the desire of release from strife. My favorite example of this is "Counting the Days".
It's one of the most goose bump inducing songs I've ever heard. Borland's voice excels in swoon, with the balance of Bailey's bass as the beating heart. Mayer's keyboard blankets the song like lace curtains, and Dudley's driving beat creates a scene that is achingly vulnerable. This dream like blend is at peak excellence on the band's mid-run EP, Shock of Daylight. It's easily my favorite work from the band. It encapsulates the aural scope of the earliest and latest entries, providing an easy window into their work.
I am in eternal debt to something I don't understand for finding this band.