The Saddest Albums I've Ever Experienced, Part One

It’s been a while, a statement I put in most of my writings. My last article being 11 months ago, about Begotten, which was honestly one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen ( I’ll never let that shit down). I’ve made a new year resolution (Happy New Year by the way), to write every single day. And try to publish something at least twice a week. And what better way to hold me to that than to start off with a six-part album series, or melodrama, that can cause the happiest person to fall into the deepest depression anyone has ever known.

Everywhere at the End of Time. A beautiful masterpiece created by master musician ‘The Caretaker’ is about one of the most terrifying, saddening, and painful diseases that affects over 6 million people of all ages: Alzheimer’s. This six-part melodrama took about two and a half years to finish. The first album in the series was written in September of 2016 and the final was published in March of 2019. Each album corresponds to a stage Alzheimer’s, being six stages. This massive composition is 6 albums long, and I’ll be writing an article for every album. Today’s album is “A” the beginning. Just a warning, as the title says, this is the saddest series of albums I’ve ever heard. It took a toll on my mental health. There is not one album where I didn’t cry at least twice. If you wish to experience this album on your own, please be cautious. It is a very powerful series, but again, very, very destroying. I do this so you don’t have too. Reader’s discretion is advised.

A1- “It’s Just a Burning Memory”- Possibly the most famous song off this six part journey, pretty much becoming the soundtrack of the infamous Backrooms (one of my favorite pieces of internet lore). This album starts off with comforting sounds that crackle, yet doesn’t take away from the music. The music sounds as if it was written in the 1920’s-30’s. Yet it gives me a sense of dread, I guess because I pair it with the endless hallways of the yellow wallpaper office space I so dearly love. The crackle gives it a sense of time, as if it is an old vinyl that’s been stored away, and now being played 50 years later (I have experience with this). It feels like you’re alone in the Overlook hotel. This song is very clear and catchy, yet somber, as if the diagnosis just happened to you, and everyone came back from the appointment to sit down and think of the terrifying future.

A2- “We Don’t Have Many Days”- The name of this song is so somber. It’s as if The Caretaker in this story, not the artist, is explaining to us, the person who was diagnosed what’s happening. A soothing, yet sad jazz piano plays softly, the crackling of the vinyl getting louder. This is a very important detail. The repetitiveness of the piano soon becomes almost heartbreaking. It’s a 15 second snippet, replayed over and over, as if a memory, a short one, is being played over and over. The desperation of trying to remember the past, that this wall this is slowly being built to separate the memory from us, or at least the base building blocks, are showing its destructive face.

A3- “Afternoon Drifting”- This uplifting jazz piano song feels like a warm nap on a porch, the afternoon sun gracing your face, making you feel relaxed and warm. The only issue is the song is much more distorted, crackling, and feels more distant than the last. Have you ever gotten bad news, and decided to fall asleep to try to escape that? Well this song is the begging of that, where your mind is racing, but you want to fall asleep. You force yourself asleep. It sounds like you put a speaker up to your phone to record the music that is coming out if that speaker. The sound is clipping, static is peaking, notes are sharp. Yet it feels peaceful. As if us, (The Diagnosed) has come to terms with it, and is ready for whatever comes their way. It’s still repetitive, but in a calming and natural way, unlike the previous song. Its that point of drifting from awake into full sleep.

A4- “Childishly Fresh Eyes”- The theme of 20’s-30’s music is very prominent in this series, I can only assume because of the person diagnosed in the story, and their age. In this song, we are back to what I can only imagine as the same artist, our (The Diagnosed) favorite, being the similarities in the music. This song feels like a dream, the music is clear, no crackle of the vinyl, no distortion. It feels like a ballroom dance, a point of meeting someone that is prominent in our life. An amazing memory from our youth. It’s happy, joyful, full of life and color. A montage of the first time we met “the one” is the only way I can describe it. Then, it ends abruptly.

A5- “Slightly Bewildered”- The abrupt ending of the last song really makes the abrupt start of this song that much more powerful. As it starts, we are already shot back into reality. Crackling, somber tones, distant, hazy feel. As if we were woken up by someone to either check on us, or to move us from a spot we were comfortable in. Its saying “Come on, wake up off the porch, let’s get you to your bed.” It’s a reality shock. We are feeling so well in the last song then BOOM, we are back to knowing what we know in the waking life. It’s a saddening precursor to what is about to come.

A6- “Things that are beautiful and transparent”- A far away, drawn out tune that truly puts us in a place of thought. It reminisces what we just went through. The diagnosis, the beginning of this wall, the subconscious not wanting to let go of these beautiful memories as we dream, the abruptness of being awaken from a comforting spot, even though it may not look comforting, so we are forced to lay in a dark, empty, cold and dull room. As if we are in a hospital, but it’s a place we have known and loved for years, until now. I believe the name to be a moment of duality, it plays off of itself. “Thigs that are beautiful” reflects the idea of all this wealth, this material grown over the years, the decades. Things that made us smile, happy. Things that bring joy and memory, but now, they’re transparent. They no longer mean anything. Soon they will have no value, no memories attached. Soon they’ll be things, objects that end up in a box. That are sold at estate sales, or donated to Goodwill. There is no meaning or memory behind them, at least not yet, but for now, for as long as we, the diagnosed, can hold on to them, they are beautiful.

This is just the first of the six albums, and its already so rough. The story The Caretaker has begun to build is so real, and terrifying. And knowing we are put in the shoes of the Diagnosed is even more terrifying. We are here, experiencing Alzheimer’s in real time. Hug the people you love, and tell them how much you love them.