Listen along to this article with additional commentary by author Ioan Eofor
A burning heart beats big brains.
I remember a couple years back, in a forgotten time where we were able to freely travel, and you know… do shit? Me and my friends had found ourselves fresh off a boat from Estonia covered in sea salt and stale liquor. We joined several hundred blue color Baltic bastards on a quest over from Finland for the cheaper beer.
This was becoming an annual quest for us three at this point. We had a good thing going with our pals in Finland, and our bandmate up there was always kind enough to provide shelter with a nice cabin located between here and Elfland. Every year we would venture up there to make a new black metal album, and shelter ourselves and our ideas away from the modern world for about 2-3 weeks at a time.
This year I had found myself a killer earache on this fuckin’ boat courtesy of the sleeping conditions of some of Tallinn’s finest hostel beds. On top of that we were up all night with the local scene drinking, and admiring the Medieval/Soviet rot of Tallinn from atop a large hill… Despite knowing our boat trip was going to be an extremely stormy one, and first thing in the morning.
I remember the people, the sounds, the lights, the magic, and thinking ‘wow imagine if I was rational and decided to stay in tonight and not get absolutely bollocksed with a load of Estonian broads on a hill.’
As my two other good buds rested a bit on the front deck of the ship and the polka band played down below for the increasingly intoxicated Finns. I remember the deep and raw emotions I felt on that boat as I looked over the sea. I remember thinking to myself that I once dreamed of sailing to Finland in some sort of grade 10 folk metal wet dream I had conjured in my youth. It was simply powerful.
I’m not ashamed to say I teared up at that moment. Here I was sailing the Baltic to get to my Finnish black metal band deep in the wilderness of the far north, on a fucking huge boat with my friends and the most local of locals. It was everything I set out to do and be in my youth. It was the application of dreams to reality like a wand conjures lightening from some ethereal wizard’s big fuck-off tower.
But as I stared off at those ancient waters, and searched for the coastline of Finland, I couldn’t shake a collection of words that had struck me years before by a close friend.
It was around 2009-2010 and I was struggling for my life to start a folk metal band in Ontario Canada. Miles away from the main sources of inspiration of all kinds and levels. I was not very good at any instruments, I was just learning how to scream, and getting worse and worse at all the sports I was still involved in through a lack of interest in the game and the personalities I was meeting, the older I got.
Every time I found a dude who could play a decent riff he was vacant for practice, disinterested in my vision, or had some sort of other ideas for how fast we should be getting picked up by a label.
It was right after school one day that I remember my good friend, the guy who was struggling with me to form a band came up to me, and heard the latest news in our long line of disappointments. Whatever it was, I was always willing to bounce back. Perhaps not even willing but rather forced to by something beyond myself deep within my subconscious, or from within the primordial waters of my personality.
Although I suggested we might just go at it alone with a drum machine, or suggested we do what we can, instead of focusing on what we can’t so-to-speak he looked me dead in the eyes and said,
‘Maybe being in a band isn’t for us.’
What I found funny, is that’s the sentence that stuck with me years later. As I traveled across the sea towards my next album which was set to be released on one of my favorite labels as a kid.
I wasn’t angry, I didn’t hold it close to gloat. But I do hold it close.
And I woke up this morning thinking about why that might be. Why do I remember these sorts of comments? Why do any of us?
And I think It’s because a lot of the time, the people who say these things are right. It’s a safe bet to say that most shit you shoot for in life won’t work out.
But as corny as it is, you have to fucking try. Because if you don’t then yeah, you are absolutely correct it wasn’t for you, and not even for me if I listened to that lad then and there.
He’s a good friend, we still talk, but one of us is in bands and one of us isn’t. Thankfully he has found his passion also, and does what he does, yadda yadda, but the point I’m trying to make here is that:
People who give you logic like that arent wrong…they just aren’t right either.
Especially when it comes to that certain personality type that I seem to be a prime example of.
It’s that type of person who revels in being told you can’t. I see it as a challenge, and have dedicated my whole life to saying ‘fuck you, watch me’
I have many friends that think cautiously, but guess what? They hang around, they stick around, and they seem to like the warmth that mad fuckers like me and my other bright hearted friends bring to the table in terms of friendship and team dynamics.
Now again, this isn’t to shit on any type of person, it’s fantastic to be cautious and you will probably have more security and stability than someone like me will ever get to enjoy, but you really can’t let that sort of negativity kill your ideas and passions.
If someone tells you that you both can’t do something, it’s literally no skin off their ass if they submit to the logic they find comforting. But if you are someone like me, you have to one day realize that there is something deeply uncomfortable about regrets and not trying something simply because a bunch of people you like to spend time with told you can’t.
Logically oriented personality types are really good at keeping others in check, if the others let them. But at some point you have to ask yourself ‘to what end’ you know?
To what end do you want to keep assuming that everything is too hard and that we should literally just do what we’re supposed to be doing.
People told me I was fucked for even trying to get a job in history, or to pursue a craft in blacksmithing.
Both of those are absolutely true statements, for anyone not willing to try.
But damn it, even during my uni years I was working full time as a blacksmith at a museum.
It doesn’t get more classic than that. If you are willing to try and be different, these crazy situations will find you. Law of attraction, baby. We’re talking Crowley, we’re talking Hermes’ Emerald Tablets. We’re talking about “if everyone else is bogged down in grey gridlock on all levels of their being, there is plenty of fuckin’ sky for you to soar in.”
Keep a bright heart, and let it burn until your last day, boys.
Have a killer weekend.