Inspired by music video: Until the Ribbon Breaks – Here Comes the Feeling
Sitting ducks on razorblades, just waiting to be swallowed by the soup. That’s how deep inner pain feels. Specifically the kind that keeps popping up. Like rejection. And you know exactly how it feels. So you’re mentally preparing to let it drain you. Brace yourself, because… here comes the feeling. Only that, this time, there’s no addiction nor gossip nor any activities to distract you from the feeling. That all too familiar feeling. This time there’s nothing to numb down the pain. No cookies, no social media, no weed. Just the one feeling, which you are forced to feel. It’s the kind of feeling you’d give anything for just to avoid feeling it at all (did someone ask for a ‘workaholic’? Here, pick me).
Imagine a tiny train on a racing track inside of your head, racing at more than 500km per hour, heading straight for your heart. Here comes the feeling – but not the words. Certain feelings, especially if deep, do not need words. They can just be ‘hanging in the air’. Like a deep dark energy, or some kind of malicious ‘vibe’. And you know what the sad part is? … The sad part is that you know this feeling just too darn well! It’s like the repetition of a bad dream. Instead of waking up, like you normally would, this tiny train of thought just goes round and round and round. Again and again. A loop within a loop within a loop.
That is, until the ribbon breaks, and its heavy load is unleashed upon your heart. And your train of thought has finally arrived at the end stop. That is, until the next trigger pops up.
Director of music video: Until the Ribbon Breaks
The truth in metal music. Perhaps that is why it always takes an effort to understand them metal cries. It took so long to remember just what happened. Ah yes, when you finally found the memory stick to your inner hard drive. You simply can’t trust those things. It’s like a wasp in a jar in a jewellery box in a room full of drawers. Basically, it’s a giant Tim Burton-like archive. That’s your subconsciousness right there. Got my hands bound and my head down and my eyes closed. And my legs gone. Let’s not forget that little detail. Do unto others what has been done to you. Yes… Yes. Control ’em. Stalk ’em. Look ’em up. Do your research. Shit, blood and cum on my hands. Seal the deal. And to think good caregivers need at least four years to seal the so-called “childhood deal”. But bad ones, ha! I have found some kind of temporary sanity in this. No one even bothers to check up on those. No. This is it. The familiarity. The room full of tiny little prison cells. True love, is it. My caregivers. My inner voice. You look so precious. True love, just a tiny bit distorted.
Director of MV: Adam Jones
Giant plastic bags. Bubbles. Cocoons. Tiny little cells raging. I’m not human at all – I have no heart. Cause to be humane is to have a heart. Is to care about others. And about emotions, too. Empathy: you either have it or you don’t. I don’t. And ’emotions’, what are those? You only care about your own cocoon, he said. Your own balloon. I wasn’t part of this world. Not now, not ever. “You’re alien, and heartless”. If you could put people in boxes, I was floating somewhere outside of them boxes. Them boxes wrapped up in one giant box called ‘Humans’. I was even outside o’ that one, he said. It reminded me of this one guy in high school, pointing at me too, laughing, with this big smile on his face: “You’re heartless – heartlesssss!”. If only memories would leave. It would make cocoons so much more comfortable. The plastic of the bag scratches my hands, my toes, my lips. Echoes in my head – “heartlesssss!”. It’s not my fault I’m not human at all. I mean, we can’t all have a heart. Right? Still, it’s good to have people burst your bubble every now and then.
Director of MV: Marie Limkilde
Did you get me the good ones? He asked. Puh! Of course I did. Who did he take me for? I know a good condom when I see one. It was 3 AM in the morning and I just got back from one hell of a drive. I couldn’t see where I was driving cause all the street lights were out and my car’s front lights weren’t as good as they used to be. You know that moment when you’re in utter need of sex, and your boyfriend happens to be there, and you’re like ‘Well, now that you’re here …, why not … ?’, but the problem is you haven’t got protection and you have to babysit your little sister that night and she’s can’t sleep, and you can’t leave her alone with the TV-addicted boyfriend, cause he’s pretty much a child himself, and so you put her in the car and she’s happy as a clown for this sudden night-time adventure, and you’re looking at her big bright moon-sized eyes, fantasizing how those eyes might guide you home, though you know they won’t, so you’re trying really hard to just focus on the road ahead, while you’re anxiously thinking over in your head where to get a condom at this time of night, any condom at all, and even if you do get one, whether the boyfriend isn’t gonna whine again over the fact that you didn’t get the good ones? You know that moment? Well, I was feeling like that again and because of all this drama in my head and the fact that I really – really – wanted to get laid, I took the first Durex-package I saw, the colours of which I know so well, and guess what? … I didn’t get the good ones.
Director of MV: Rojomotorz
The world. Sometimes you wish you could just fly away. Floating against the tide. But of course, there’s always that one person you’ll have to take with. That floating ghost in the floating house that is … your brain. I am the storm, and I am the wonder, and the flashlights, nightmares, sudden explosions. Or in other words: your playful side and your somewhat darker side – where the latter is really just a synonym for “room for improvement”. That’s why flashlights are so important here. So let’s improve some issues, shall we? Let’s not bulldoze over our deeper, darker side. No, no, let’s just acknowledge it’s there. Feeling bad about being your scared small needy self again? Having just one wish, namely to not be this way? … Flying away from others is one thing, flying away from yourself is … an entirely different matter. Drove yourself off the road yesterday, did you? Let me give you some advice: it’s not the world that’s frustrating, it’s you. Well, not you, YOU, but your thoughts. It’s them damn busy, frustrating, judgmental thoughts. Or at least, that’s what Eckhart Tolle would say. There’s no room where I can go. I know, that’s kind of the thing with thoughts. You’re just wandering around, minding your own business, watching them thoughts flow by, and then suddenly KABAM. What else is there? Nothing. Just you: At times the Storm, at times the Wonder. If I am the storm, if I am the wonder, will I have flashlights, nightmares, sudden explosions? Yes, you will. Welcome to the world that only you inhabit. Now, I have only one word for you. Flashlights.
Director of MV: Martin de Thurah
So you’ve got the robotic rhythm and them alien signs, and, of course, a girl. This one’s wearing a glass helmet and a black cloak. The image of her chair hitting the ground makes for perfect photography. But first: Let the robot speak, that alien television-looking thingy in front of her. They caught her, tied her up, forced her to watch that thing. Looking at her sideways, she looks like Death itself trapped in a corner. The thing has a name: The Infinity Prism (which actually exists!). An exact replica of today’s all-pervasive, yet fatal audio-visual paranoia. Undoubtedly sending out some Flume-tunes. And the dungeon they put her in… you’re like, damn, where can I buy this thing? It’s perfect for my freshly renovated basement downstairs. I would love to put a girl in there. Force her to listen to Flume, to see the light, the universal meaning of music… I’d be like, you see? You see now how to break free? Cause suddenly it’s there: she lifts up, as does her chair. Another perfect photograph. Caught up in her screen, as you are caught up in yours. Breaking free from all earthly matter, hypnotized by the Dreamachine-kind of screen. She has discovered how to literally be caught up in music. How to, yes, vanish for a little while. And so have you.
Director of MV: Toby & Pete