In May 2014, I reviewed Whelm, Douglas Dare’s debut album, and praised it for its sparse beauty and lyrical weight. Now, almost exactly ten years later, I discovered Omni, his fourth and most daring album to date. It was released in May 2024 but had somehow stayed off my radar until recently.
Known for his piano-led minimalism and poetic songwriting, Dare takes a confident leap here. He embraces lush electronics, pulsing basslines and rhythmic tension. Omni is not a record that stays safely in the shadows. It pulses, flickers and invites movement, all while preserving the intimacy he is known for.
As someone whose taste usually leans toward heavier genres such as progressive rock, metal and dense arrangements, what continues to draw me to Dare’s music is not its volume but its emotional weight. There is a complexity in the restraint and a richness in the rawness. Omni feels simultaneously expansive and enclosed, like dancing alone in a dimly lit room while the world fades outside the door.
This is music that leans into sensuality and story. The electronic textures are meticulous but never sterile. There is breath in the beats and skin in the synths. My favourites – Absentia, Sailor, and No Island is a Man – are perfect examples of how emotion can be sculpted into sound. Absentia aches in its pauses. Sailor carries longing like a tide pulling memory and presence into one wave. No Island is a Man is both arresting and tender, its arrangement stunning in both vulnerability and strength.
Compared to the subdued piano ballads of Milkteeth (2020) or the fractured introspection of Aforger (2016), Omni moves with intent. It is bolder, darker in tone, but more fluid in form. It sheds the fragility of his earlier albums without losing the emotional core that defines his work.
Although I only discovered Omni recently, I listened to it all day for a couple of days in a row. It accompanied me through quiet work, restless thoughts, and even the writing of the heavier piece on mental health I shared recently. It held the background gently, anchoring me with its warmth and restraint, just like the best music does.
It is worth noting that Omni is not only Dare’s vision, but a collaboration shaped by sensitive and skilful production choices. The subtle textures and perfectly balanced arrangements speak of a team that knew exactly how to hold space for his voice and message.
Omni feels both nostalgic and forward-looking. It echoes influences while carving its own strange, beautiful path. It reminds me that emotive, art-driven music, whatever its genre, has the power to disarm and hold you still. It was high time I took the time to write about this little electronic gem.
I didn’t know his name. But Nick Drake’s voice stopped me. Still. Fragile. A melody so simple it felt almost private, like a secret shared in the dark. Not loud. Not demanding. Just there. And it stayed. His songs do that. They find you when you need them most, and they linger.
Nick Drake was born in 1948, in a quiet English village. He never wanted the spotlight. He wrote what he saw: beauty, silence, longing. In his short life he left three albums: Five Leaves Left, Bryter Layter, Pink Moon. Few listened then. Only later did the world begin to understand what we had lost.
The first time I heard Nick Drake I was writing late at night, drifting through a playlist with Tim Buckley and Jeff Buckley. Music that feels raw, exposed. Then Pink Moon began.
His music is unlike anything else. Gentle and piercing at once. Poetic words wrapped around delicate guitar lines. He sang about nature, loneliness, fleeting love. Listening to him is like sitting in a quiet room while rain taps against the windows. Peaceful. Reflective. Bittersweet. His voice doesn’t just carry words. It carries emotions you didn’t know you were holding. Pink Moon was the first. Bare and close, as if he were sitting right beside me. Then Northern Sky, tender as sunlight breaking through heavy clouds. And River Man, haunting, a dream that refuses to let go. These aren’t just songs. They are experiences.
Nick died in 1974, only 26 years old. Too soon, too quietly. After struggling for years with doubts and depression. Today his work is celebrated, his voice passed on like a secret that endures. His songs remind us to pause. To sit with silence. To feel. It’s the right soundtrack for a quiet day in autumn.
If you want to step closer, the book Nick Drake: Remembered for a While gathers letters, stories, fragments. A portrait of a man who saw more than most, who left behind more than he knew. What makes his legacy endure is the honesty. He didn’t write for an audience. He wrote because he had to. That’s why his music feels like it belongs to you. Not just something to hear, but something to carry. For me, his songs are comfort and inspiration. Even the quietest voices last, even the quietest voices are remembered for a while. And that’s something I can relate to, maybe a bit too much.
If you’ve never listened to Nick Drake, let me help you begin. Start here:
1. “Pink Moon” – A hauntingly simple track that feels both fragile and eternal.
2. “Northern Sky” – A love song so warm and hopeful it’s like a soft embrace.
3. “River Man” – Mysterious and poetic, a song that lingers long after it ends.
Nick Drake wasn’t just a musician—he was a quiet genius, a poet who poured his soul into his work. His music isn’t loud or flashy—it’s honest, vulnerable, and profoundly human. I hope his songs find you, just as they found me, and that they stay with you long after the final note fades. Sometimes, it’s the quietest voices that leave the loudest echoes.
It’s Friday, the sun is shining and the night has been short once again. Work was nice – as always; I really love my job and the kids and my co-workers too.
It’s international women’s day. I think here in my Luxembourgish bubble, gender equality is actually not that bad, but I also know that worldwide, there are many improvements that need to be made. Until every girl has a right to education and self-determination, until genital mutilation, child-marriage and all those inequalities are reversed, we need days like today – if only to remind people that not everything is hunky dory.
I’m stepping off my soapbox and get to what you are here for to see. (Okay… my English seems very bad today – I apologise. I can’t seem to find the right words or the right way to put my sentences.) Let there be music!!
Day 8
A song you like with a food in the title
Daisy Jones & the six – look at us now (honeycomb)
This song is from a show called Daisy Jones & the Six. I liked it a lot and the music this imaginary band created spoke to me. Or easier said, I liked the show and the music. Apparently, the band is loosely based on Fleetwood Mac, but I don’t know. I don’t know enough about the band to judge this. The above song was in my end of year list of my listened songs in 2023, and I have to say that the entire soundtrack of this show is brilliant. Give it a try, if you like this song and a show that is more on the dramatic side, then this is absolutely for you.
It’s never too late to join in on the fun. Challenges like this are sometimes boring and sometimes exciting. At the very least, you might find new songs you like. Which song would you have chosen today?
My work is done for the day, now for a little break and then back to the household chores.
Day 4
A song that reminds you of someone
HIM – join me (in death)
This song was released in 1999. In early January of 2000, I met the man I love; the man who became my husband. The man of my life. We met on a blind date and when we entered a café together, this song was playing. And it was playing on our next date, and the couple after that too. “Join Me” was quickly labelled our song, though – as someone who is not very romantic, I have to say, having a song is soppy.
I could have chosen many songs: Shine on Crazy Diamond, Les Planètes, Everything… But I haven’t heard the above song in a while and I like thinking back to when my my husband and me began dating 🙂
It’s never too late to join the fun. Which song reminds you of someone special?
It’s March 1st. What could be a better day to start a 30 day song challenge?
A couple of friends over on IG took or are taking part in this fun little game, and I decided to give it a go.
Day 1
A song you like with a colour in the title
Agent Fresco – The Autumn Red
I chose the above, from an Icelandic band. The song was on an album called Destrier.
Enjoy… I am off to bed very soon… Yeah… At this early hour… This morning I woke up earlier than I usually do because I had nightmares again – and now, of course, I am tired.
It’s Friday and I was very busy today in the kitchen. I have guests tonight and so I had to deep clean and make desserts. Main menu will be a Fondue, which does not need all that much preparation. Usually, I am quite good in the kitchen, but somehow, today most stuff ended in a culinary disaster and I had to improvise.
At least there was new music today.
I may write an update later, to tell you how it went, but maybe not… The couple that comes to visit often leaves late and we drink a lot (sometimes even too much) but it is always memorable and I like them a lot. Apart from being great friends, I sang with him in a band and wrote lyrics for him. And, I mentioned them by name in WORD THIEF, because not many people from my daily life support my poetry the way they do. They keep pestering me (in a nice way) to take part in a poetry slam, but for now, I am keeping my ground. You’ll never see me on a stage with a microphone again. That ship has sailed. Anyway…
Yup, fits me (or the way I see myself) well enough
Addition 10pm: Lesson of the day: consider who is a friend and who is just keeping you around for their own sake. Stay kind, but don’t you ever let your guard down again!
This song is taken from the third studio album of this Icelandic post-rock band: () released in 2002. The album, as well as all the songs are untitled and the lyrics are sung in “Hopelandic”, a language consisting of gibberish words, reminescent of the language of elves.
My day was filled with nothingness, which brings me to the song and the name it was given a while after the release “Njósnavélin” is also known as “the nothing song”.
Sigur Ròs – () (2002)
Tomorrow, I will be back at work for a ten hour shift… Keep your fingers crossed for me, please.
Tonight, news came that the British band Anathema decided to go on an indefinite hiatus (aka split up) after the challenging year that 2020 was.
I admit it makes me sad. The band and their music mean/meant a lot to me.
I was young, barely 16 years old, when I heard my first Anathema song. It was on the free CD Rom that came with a music magazine; the magazine was called “UP”. The first listen of the CD was done in passing and without much interest, but something – a line in the song, made my ears perk up, and I listened again from the beginning and watched the video. Again. And again. On repeat for days.
Later I learned from the small article in the magazine that it was a promo shot for the band’s upcoming album “Judgement” released in 1999.
Imagine young and excited Cathy practically running to her trusted record dealer to buy the entire back catalog, only to be disappointed to find out that the store only had one album in stock. I had no idea that Anathema had been around for years and that their music had evolved considerably in those years too. No one I knew had ever heard of this band. And I was sure that I had discovered a gem. Little did I know that this band and their music would be a soothing and comforting companion for decades.
The first album I finally bought was called “Alternative 4”. It had been released in 1998, and the melancholy gripped me right away. But there was more to it; there were guitar riffs, piano, lyrics… I had never heard anything that touched me in that way. True, I was only fifteen, but all of a sudden, I felt a positive intensity that had not been there before. And I liked that feeling very much.
I was hooked on the music. I didn’t know nor cared about the people making the music. But I cared about the lyrics that touched me right in the feels. Mind you, this was before everyone had access to the internet. My knowledge came from expensive music magazine with monthly issues. I was not fangirling over any of the band’s members. It was just the music. I could not grasp half of the emotions that were sung about yet, but the other half were very familiar.
From there on out, Anathema had a song for every feeling; they had lyrics that reflected my emotions. I felt understood; I felt home. And wow, was that a powerful feeling for a young starving mind as mine. Coming from a broken home, including emotional neglect and abuse, these songs felt like a warming and welcoming blanket. Very far removed from the angry music I had listened to before.
In the year 2000, I visited Paris for the first time, and of course, we had to visit the Virgin Mega Store. It was heaven on earth. I was in paradise. It was where I bought the older Anathema albums. Very different from what I knew by then: still melodic, still meaningful lyrics, but growling, screaming vocals. Not really my cup of tea. But also, it showed me that progress is good. Change is good. And trying and daring to go in a different direction than every one expected seemed possible for the first time ever.
“Sunset of Age” from the album “A Silent Enigma” (1995)
And the band kept releasing fantastic album after fantastic album. Their creative well did not dry up. Year after year, they released songs and albums that became classics in their own right. And even when their record company dropped merged with a different label and decided to drop some of the smaller bands and artists, they continued to create and breathe music.
Between the albums “A natural disaster” (2003) and “We’re here because we’re here” (2010), seven almost silent years passed; at least for me, who was not interested in any band drama and still chose to not buy into any false rumours read on the almighty internet. In 2008, a compilation with new versions of old songs was released: “Hindsight”. It made old songs appear new and showcased the fact that there was not one weak song.
The silent period was a period of change, and the band toured a lot and all over the world. The quality of their playing benefitted of it, definitely. Or so I personally believe.
In 2012, the masterpiece “Weather Systems” was released. I squealed when I noticed that Anathema would tour Luxembourg with this album. For me, they reached their creative peak with this one. Maybe it is also their most commercially accessible album, even if the style is more progressive. With the help of a new producer who pushed the band to step even further out of their comfort zone, an exceptional record was made. It opened the doors to a new generation of fans.
A live album followed. “Universal”. It’s not a perfect album by far, the first minutes are filled with little slips, and the nervousness of the band is palpable. But it is also one of the few live albums that let me feel the energy even though I was not there in Bulgaria. The songs the fans know and love were arrange with a classic orchestra. Strings added an extra special atmosphere to the songs. An intense album indeed.
The sound evolved further. More electronic elements found their way into the music of Anathema. On the album “Distant Satellites” (2014), other new classics can be found. The album in its entirety, did not appeal to me, but several songs and their stories caught me off guard too. And that’s all one can ask for.
“Anathema” is a song for and about the band; at the same time, it is very universal too. In 2014, I saw the band for the second time. It was at that gig that I planned my memorable trip to Brussels to see Her Name is Calla. So many memories are related to Anathema and their music. They are intensely attached to my life.
But when they release their 2017 album “The Optimist,” they kind of lost me. Maybe I had grown? Maybe too much happened. The band claimed this album to be their best yet. A sequel of sorts to the 2001 album “A Fine Day to Exit”. The album did not really grab me. I wrote a (positive) review about it, it can be found on this very blog too. And yet, I couldn’t pass on the opportunity to see Anathema live again. This time, I went all by myself. I wrote a post about that gig. I was in the middle of a depressive episode; maybe that played an essential part in how I perceived that night too.
In 2014/2015, Daniel Cavanagh, founding member, songwriter/multi-instrumentalist of Anathema, launched a crowdfunding campaign for a solo album. It consisted of cover versions that held memories and meaning for the artist, hence the name “Memory and Meaning”. Of course, I supported one of the people who influenced most of my life. I ordered a handwritten lyric sheet for the song “Everything”.
It is framed and has a special place in my home. A funny one too: it hangs on the wall of my guest bathroom. As a surprise, the father of my kids ordered a personalised song that was sung just for me. It was “Forgotten Hopes”. And although it is not the best and it sounds as if he was sitting in a tank, I like the personal dedication. I sent an email to thank him for the note written in red on the lyric sheet, and wouldn’t you know, he replied in a kind way. Bless him.
A long post just to say that I am sad today. I can’t imagine a musical world without Anathema in it. And I seriously hope that every member of the band will find happiness, love, (mental) health, hope, and new ways to be creative. I am sure a decision like this was not made lightly and impulsively. And who knows, maybe they will reunite in a couple of years. Every member of the band has music in their veins, and I am convinced that there is more to come.
Thank you, Anathema, for decades of making me feel understood and at home. I owe a lot to this band. Without them, I would not be a poet; without them, half of my poems would never have been written. Without them, their dedication and passion, I would not be the person I am right now.
Forever grateful,
Cathy
And just one for the road. A song that lets my emotions flow…
I grew up in a house of adults—grand-parents, two uncles, one aunt, my mom, my sister, and me. For me, they were all old, of course, but they were all really rather young. My first memories go back to 1987. I was four years old. My uncles were 25 and 22 years old. (My mom was 27). They listened to a lot of music. Pink Floyd, Queen, Dire Straits, Blondie, those are only a few artists I remember from my childhood. A song that stood out was this one:
Dire Straits – Brothers in Arms
From the album with the same name “Brothers in Arms” (1985, Air Records), I remember the blue album sleeve with the steel guitar and how it stood next to the television. I remember my uncles and my mom sitting in the living room, smoking cigarettes, drinking beer, and listening to their records. I can’t say with certainty that the image of them sitting, smoking, and drinking is the same as the memory of the album cover next to the television, though.
Years later, vinyl was replaced by CDs, and one of my uncles had moved out. The older one liked drinking a lot. And when he did, he became reminiscent of the old times. He held discourses about how old music was the only real music. He would drunkenly mumble lyrics and move his hands in a particular manner. He wasn’t dancing, just his hands were. I don’t know what happened and why he took up drinking. I am not in touch with him even though we lived together until I moved out in 2004. It is what it is.
I don’t have many good memories of my childhood. I don’t feel a connection with my family, but it has to be said; every member of my family liked music in a way. And that is something that shaped me from an early age on. As a kid, I was not aware that other children didn’t listen to music; as a teenager, I couldn’t relate to girls shopping for clothes instead of music. And still today, I soak up insignificant information about musicians and music that is really rather useless. And yet, it means something to me. And if given the opportunity, I will ramble on and on about it.
Both of my self-imposed challenges will end soon— four more post in the A to Z writing challenge, and only two more songs in this Song of the Day challenge. Tomorrow’s song will be the hardest to pick. I have been thinking about it for a while, and I can’t come up with a song that describes me. Do you have any suggestions? Which song would you choose to describe me?
Seems I am moving too fast, yesterday’s song was a cover too.
First the original, then the cover:
Nina Simone – be my husband
Jeff Buckley’s version:
I first heard Nina Simone when I was in highschool (Lycée, we called it). My best friend listened to her a lot and I appreciated some songs too. Years later, we lost sight of each other, I was listening to an Etta James playlist on YouTube and Nina came on. I was delighted and transported back into a time when I was fifteen.
Jeff Buckley caught my attention after the songwriter of Our Ceasing Voice (an Austrian post-rock band) shared a playlist of songs that inspired him. There were a couple of new artists for me, Her Name is Calla and Jeff Buckley are those that stayed with me after all these years. (This must have been around 2013). For a while, Jeff Buckley’s music played when I wrote my stories and novels. For some scenes, this soundtrack set a sensual backdrop and they were easily written that way.
And because I like you and think you deserve something brilliant on this Monday, I will add another cover. I am sure you know the original of this song:
Manic Street Preachers – Umbrella
I like this version a lot. I am not a huge Rihanna fan, her voice is not my cup of tea and the genre of music receives less attention from me anyway. I am trying to stay openminded though (and I like to believe that I am.)
The first band that comes to my mind is Madrugada, but they toured together this year. Then I thought about Pink Floyd and Genesis. And I wonder if my notion is wrong. Semantics? Is a change in lineup a different band?
I gave this a lot of thought, and I didn’t come to a conclusion. And now, here is my pick:
The Beatles – a day in the life
From the album: Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club Band (1967, Parlophone). This song is my favourite Beatles song, although I also enjoy many other songs too. The Beatles were a phenomenon, and they still are right now.
What song would you have picked? From the Beatles or any other band that isn’t anymore?
Music has been my savour more often than not. It offered sanity and moments of clarity when my brain is a puddle of mudd. It makes me fly, and it makes me drown. It allows me to feel when I am not sure if I can handle my emotions. It soothes me when I am overwhelmed by every breath. I found an old radio when I was 8. It was red, and its edges (made from plastic) where chipped. It was my most valuable possession until I received my first hifi-set.
My radio looked a lot like this one from Grundig, but it was red and the front was lighter.
Music was my first love, and it will be my last. I do know that there are many people who don’t care about music, and to those I apologise, my blog is very music-related these days.
I hope that you find songs you like, if you do, please don’t be silent. I am aware though that “my” music is special, eclectic, weird… Thank you for sticking with me.
The biggest musical venue in Luxembourg launched a challenge on their Instagram account. I like challenges, but I can’t follow rules well. Instead of sharing this on IG, I will share it here. Feel free to share along.
A song that motivates me:
Paul Kalkbrenner – sky and sand
From the album “Berlin Calling” (2008, Bpitch Control). Lyrics on the song are sung by Fritz Kalkbrenner who is also a DJ and producer, and Paul’s younger brother.
It is framed and has a special place in my home. A funny one too: it hangs on the wall of my guest bathroom.
reflections of an unquiet mind 