Today I Laid Down by bl4ck m4rket c4rt (Kai Wesener)

 'Today I Laid Down' - an EP by bl4ck m4rket c4rt, AKA Kai Wesener

I first heard this EP on the 29th December 2023 - today. Having had the pleasure of discovering the 6 songs comprising it a few hours ago, I've had them on repeat since; I haven't felt as moved by a piece of music as I have by Today I Laid Down for a good long while.

When I decided I wanted to get my thoughts regarding the EP out in the form of a blog post, I initially intended to do what I usually do with my music-related analyses. Whip out some quirky Music GCSE terminology, delve into particular musical and lyrical choices, all that jazz. Though these songs are more than worthy of the microscope treatment - they offer so much depth and complexity, which has become increasingly apparent to me with each listen - I think I just want to write about the way this music has made me feel.

I came upon the project by bl4ck m4rket c4rt (AKA Kai Wesener) while browsing albumoftheyear.org, on which it is considered one of its users' favourites of the year. After listening to it, I can say it's certainly my favourite EP of the year - perhaps even my favourite music to come out of 2023 overall. Little aspects of it that immediately came to my attention, like the appearance of the glockenspiel in almost every song, Wesener's raw vocals and the artist's phenomenal ability of building compositions up to a climax, I find to be captivating and tragic in equal measure.

Kai Wesener is no longer with us, having ended his life in October of this year. He was born in May in the year 2006 - just one month before I myself came into the world - and the talent he possessed pertaining to music is encapsulated in Today I Laid Down. Everything - from the production to the arrangement to the very instrumentation used - is astonishing across the EP. For many, following their listen of Wesener's first and only musical output, the central contemplation that will arise in their minds after its 20 minute-runtime concludes will be, 'I wonder what he does next?' 

And we can wonder, fantasise and dream endlessly of what he may have created on top of this masterful piece of music were he still alive but, unfortunately, that is all we can do.

In his absence, there remain the stunning songs he left behind. My favourite from Today I Laid Down is Alive, Always, the 4th track, whose title is made that bit more soul-crushing in the wake of Wesener's passing. It is another example of the musician's brilliant way with build-ups: progressing from shaky, shimmering synths and pained acoustic guitar strums into a cacophony of crashing drums and electric guitars, while always maintaining a note of desperation amidst the debilitating effects that poor mental health can impose onto an individual. 

Whether he knew it or not, Kai Wesener has, in transposing his perspective of the world into musical form (in a way that I can only describe as utterly beautiful), given voice to people all around the world who can empathise with his experience. I truly hope word of Today I Laid Down spreads long after Wesener's untimely passing, as it is probably one of the most powerful collections of songs many will hear in their lifetimes.

A rumination on family this Christmas time.

Be it an unexpected present, a quirky new festive advert or a cheesy joke you've never come across before appearing in your cracker, Christmas is never short on surprises. That's part of its 'magic.' (Magic that, albeit, has long begun to fade from my eyes...but such is inevitable.)

There is one aspect of the annual holiday that most would cite as its fundamental raison d'être (forgetting Christ the Saviour and all that). Regarded as the single constant to be gleefully anticipated whenever December comes to greet us; ideally with snow, though we Brits can barely dream of sleet, let alone a 'White Christmas'. Of course, that thing is family.

Those you're bound to through strands of DNA, or those who have come to be considered akin to family - partners, close friends, colleagues. Were every Christmas advert to be believed, one would assume that we all expect, before, on and after the 25th, to be surrounded by the smiling faces of the people we love. That, what with Christmas being this joyful period of peace and goodwill, the complexities and tribulations of family can simply be forgotten, for all will be merry.

I don't think Santa's exactly renowned for fixing deep-seated familial issues in exchange for a mince pie and a carrot, though.

Instead, the festive period usually sees the reception of gifts from relatives you may not have seen for a few days, or perhaps several years. A chocolate bar. A red and white card, some money tucked inside. Kindly gestures that should be appreciated, of course, and that they are. But, when the chocolate's scoffed, the card read and money promptly stored away, what remains in their absence?

Hopefully, time remains: to spend eating a meal, watching a film, sharing stories of Christmases past with loved ones, enjoying each other's company all the while. Despite what some may tell you, however, time does not heal all wounds. In fact, some wounds can only deepen with time; the chasm widening, the distance growing, as they are continually neglected.

It is a tough situation when a family can't come together. Can't exchange gifts in person, the loving sentiment of someone's present legitimised that bit more by the smile they wear as they give it. The recognition of you as a person to be cherished and valued glowing in their eyes. Regardless of the reasons underpinning it, the condemnation of connections to a state of gradual decomposition, to be resuscitated once every year in the form of a wrapped-up something, is nothing if not inescapably sad.

As we prepare to send 2023 off with the clinking of glasses and, for most, a hangover in the wake of NYE, I can't stop myself from fixating on the transience of time. Events, such as the celebration of the birthday of a child whose actual date of birth remains ambiguous. Honestly, I'd scrap the whole sodding holiday (sorry, Crimbo fans) if it meant I could just see the loved ones concerned in this piece together again. Not merely tolerating sharing the same space, but enjoying it, too.

Ultimately, families are inherently complicated. Sure, some people within them may be related, but that biological fact hardly provides assurance that personalities won't clash, or problems won't arise, because they can and they will. And it can feel isolating when differences and disputes give way to distance, impacting everyone on the outskirts as well as those directly involved as a result.

Christmas is a time for family - whoever that word might refer to. On the surface, it's an elaborate dinner in the afternoon with a perhaps rubbery, perhaps dry, maybe even just right turkey; The Royle Family and the King's Christmas message; a few carols, if that's what you're into. Yet, simultaneously, it stands to symbolise the importance of those we love - that which becomes even more palpable in their absence.

Anyway...have a merry Christmas, and hey, at least 2024 won't be 2023!

Han

p.s. I know this was a pretty heavy read, so here are some pictures of Gizmo that should help to lighten the tone...