‘Biblical’ here does not denote the teachings of the Bible, but rather, the massive proportions suggested when describing size and/or effect. But in some respect, ‘biblical’ can also suggest a spiritual experience – if not divine.
It was around midnight around September in 2012. I was still up writing for work when I first came across Caspian. Their new album during that time, Waking Season, was just released and streaming on SPIN. The weight of their music fell upon me, pinning me down to an abrupt suffocation. And then everything felt immaculately euphoric, then light, and finally, free. It wasn’t exacting, nor was it laboriously measured by fragmented details (but rather, as a whole) and scrutinized chord by chord. But it was nevertheless heavily structured, orchestrated, and meant to stir.
Waking Season’s effect on me was gigantic in scale, with a propensity in breadth that can only be measured by leagues of oceans. Similar to the impact of Explosions in the Sky’s The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place and How Strange, Innocence, along with Earthmover’s First Sighting and Encounters with a Yeti’s Pilot, Waking Season became a safe place for me, a church.
A year later, following the death of their bassist, Chris Friedrich, Caspian released Hymn For The Greatest Generation, at a time when I was frail and hopeless. It might be overstating to say that it breathed new life into me, but to mitigate its significance seemed insulting to the wounds that were healed and the tears that were shed.
Today, being in a happier place and less fretful state, I’ve learned how to navigate around darkness (forgive me for being melodramatic, but I tend not to withhold on words, which are the best tools for me to express myself fully). I’m listening to Caspian’s new record, Dust & Disquiet – for the fourth time now – as I write this. It is a monstrously beautiful record, with every ounce of intensity and tenacity the same way Deftones’Koi No Yokan or Deafheaven’s Sunbather does. It is such a feral thing, baring its teeth fearlessly and pouncing its flesh mercilessly. This is Caspian’s Mr. Hyde to Waking Season.