
F♯ A♯ ∞ - The car’s on fire and there’s no driver at the wheel
When to Listen: A rainy Sunday morning
Accessibility: Not very
TLDR: Soundscapes for the depress future.
Godspeed You! Black Emperor is a band that defies labels. Most closely associated with post-rock, they have an avant-garde style that incorporates soundscapes, samples, and space to create something wholly unique and strangely moving. F♯ A♯ ∞, their debut album, serves as a haunting soundscape of a post-apocalyptic future, with glimmers of hope through loosely connected threads of sonic cohesion.
The album is not for the faint-hearted; it is dark, abstract, and lacks formal definition. Mostly instrumental in nature, the album consists of three movements woven together through soundscapes that harken back to the likes of Pink Floyd. Amid the cacophony of sound, themes of hopelessness and despair emerge, providing commentary on government corruption and the disillusionment of the postmodern dream. The opening track begins with a lone narrator speaking:
The car's on fire and there's no driver at the wheel
And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides
And a dark wind blows
The dark wind carries us throughout the album. A constant deep rumble permeates the composition, supporting the various movements and culminating in a never-ending loop (on the vinyl edition). However, it's not all bleak; despite the oppressive undertones, moments of beauty and hope emerge. Melodies and harmonies arise from the sound, only to fade back into the soundscape. These moments hint at the possibility that we can overcome the endless repetition of hatred, greed, and corruption and transcend to something better.
Over 25 years later, this album still resonates, perhaps even more so. In a post-pandemic world plagued by multiple wars with civilian atrocities, an environment on the brink of collapse, and the relentless pursuit of profit, we witness the results of humanity's endless march of greed and self-delusion. The album doesn't offer solutions or a call to action; it only provides a stark warning of what will happen if we continue this relentless march of F♯ and A♯. The reality is that this car is on fire, and there is no driver at the wheel.