On Long Distances' How the Mighty Will Fall
Transition, wistfulness and realism in shoegaze
There are many ways to characterize this EP, but at its core, How the Mighty Will Fall is ambitious. Ambitious as a post-pandemic EP, as a shoegaze EP, and as a 2024 EP.
Contextualising the release as all of the following is necessary to do it justice - a release rooted in the alienation of the pandemic and the awkward return to normalcy, a "reverb-music" release in all its introspective glory, and a sign-of-the-times release in a polarized, dysfunctional and mechanistic world fail to do justice.
As the Revenge of Kalicharan (released by the Lightyears Explode in 2013, when I was 15) chronicled the exuberance of being a teenager in Bombay in the mid-2010s, How the Mighty Will Fall is a companion to the confusion and wistfulness that my mid-20s have seen, with the pandemic punctuating these eras. The gradual transition into the professional world was both short-circuited and protracted by the pandemic, with no easing taking place, just a frenetic back and forth between excitement and panic. The pre-pandemic and pre-9-5 carefreeness is now rigour, the bellicose is now restraint and the general disregard for consequence is now tired anxiety. No release has come close to depicting the starkness of "#adulting" as this, firmly slating Long Distances as the confidante to the "post-pandemic adults", who are negotiating a confused entrance to responsibility.
The band's [insert synonym for shimmering, lush, ethereal] arrangements, and lyricism, showcase their navigation of the pandemic and the time that followed. Unusual for a shoegaze band, vocals are clear and decipherable, allowing for far more coherent storytelling. While following their stories is supported by the vocal mix, their internalisation is per choice: “Our songwriting aims at balancing being specific and open or interpretive”, says Zubin (guitars and writing), during our hour-long conversation. Skin to Sea and Lovesong for an Apocalypse stand out in this regard: depicting two emotions intrinsic to the pandemic, grief and a tentative hopefulness. The depictions of these emotions, with the literal ("Can we make it through, I hear you say") and the interpretive ("all your words and memories, memories that I can't reach") balance provocation and reflection for the listener.
These narrations are delivered with a distinct variation with whispers, drones, and runs all playing their part, much as they do in the confines of office smoking areas, Hinge chats, and our minds. Then layered on massive arrangements resplendent in familiarity and richness, the finished article - How the Mighty Will Fall - has a veneer on top of its jangliness and unease - an exemplification of this hauntological, fleeting generation forced to grow up.
How the Mighty Will Fall is ambitious as a shoegaze release as, at least partially, it is overtly political in its writing. The band does seem to lean into the shoegaze label - an Instagram story depicting their "wall of sound" and a repost by a shoegaze release account indicating comfort with a genre that has skirted politicization.
Shoegaze was underpinned by a rejection of the mechanistic nature of contemporary "mainstream" culture and a personalization of capitalist realism. Its very modalities - unending layers of guitars, hushed vocals, and non-descript imagery - were a response to popular music and its entrenchment in the industry at the end of the Thatcher era in the UK. Pioneers of the genre (MBV, Slowdive) wrote escapist, emotive songs that navigated the tumult of romance. 20 years on from Souvlaki and Loveless, the shoegaze revival saw bands like DIIV and Nothing expand into darker reactions to an accelerated, digital capitalist realism, yet as purely personal reactions to it. No EP that any of these bands have released is as charged in its anti-establishment as How the Mighty Will Fall, which adds to its ambition. Shoegaze was political in its aesthetic rejection of mainstream culture, and shoegaze band members are overtly political - Cole from DIIV spoke openly about his support for Palestine in New York last October - yet that the message is so intrinsic to Long Distances' music make them anomalies.
Related genres such as post-rock or blackgaze follow the shoegaze principle of escapism rather than confrontation. They hinge on transporting audiences rather than engaging them, a unilateral interaction. For instance, Sigur Ros spoke a sum-total of 2 words during a 150-minute set - "Takk, Riga" (thank you Riga), which did add to their larger-than-life theatrics, but felt oblivious and detached from its surroundings. Long Distances ground you - they ensure that you engage and reflect but in more subtle ways. DIIV and Sigur Ros live were awkward, and Deafheaven was cringe (lots of DJ-style “are you with me?”). Long Distances is neither. As a band, their “walls of noise” trap and confront, rather than free, and their engagement with the audience is endearing, rather than boring.
On first listen, lyrically both Empire and Bridge can come off as naive in their simplistic writing. This, however, is a subversion of the banal performativity that the liberal agenda espouses. Lines like "Will we ever learn to bridge these differences" are intended as indictments of a fractured society, but the larger objective is a forced self-examination of how we got here in the first place and our complicity in the status quo. This tongue-in-cheekness is between the lines and easy to miss, yet that there exists such depth in a debut EP exemplifies its ambition.
Commercially, they are at the right place at the right time: the shoegaze revival is running its course overseas, and it was inevitable that it would hit Indian shores. Younger listeners are accustomed to the sonic aesthetic - Cigarettes After Sex has primed them on the power of reverb pedals, Olivia Rodrigo on heartache, and Clairo on the same set of chords played repeatedly. "Zoomgaze" fits a lot of GRWM and Thalassa sunset reels too. Their placement within the zeitgeist is well-carved out, and their Lollapalooza set will likely have fewer plaid shirts, black T-shirts or Converse, and more Shein and Instagram thrift store vintage.
The band, however, remains ambivalent towards both sections of the audience: "There is a tendency to be oblique, but with Long Distances we've been very intentional in making songs that are somewhat timeless, that don't exist in a particular era. Although they tap into the context of that era, our inner barometer is to make a song that we want to listen to, and that people can connect with".
As a shoegaze (or even rock) band comprising urban elite from Bombay in 2024, Long Distances is a marriage of celebration and helplessness that marks our time. A time of dissonance where art thrives in Kalaghoda galleries and oligarch temples, where serotonin is crushed up and licked off palms, and coastlines are easier seen in Goa rather than on Worli Seaface.
I hypothesize that this awkward marriage exists within the band as well: a Lolla slot within their first year as a band, a stunning record that has received critical and audience acclaim, and the hope (and difficulty) of building a livelihood through music. These stand juxtaposed against gnawing questions of the role of art within our current capitalist machinery, exacerbated minority insecurity and the fabric of institutions being erased (or drawn, depending on how you look at it).
Equipped with founded opinions and the scars of being musicians, significant others, and minorities, the band is well-placed to reconcile this context: far from the romance of being teenagers packed in a room 24/7 writing music, Zubin discussed their meticulous rehearsal and writing schedules, being a father, and the band's "no bitterness" policy in the fallout of Lollapalooza's mismanagement of their set. There is a palpable sense of pragmatism the band exudes, with a quiet ambition grounded in their lived experience (in the music scene and otherwise) rather than fantasy. This self-awareness and intentionality make their music both accessible and meaningful, sidestepping the pointedness of the hip-hop and punk scenes and the formulaicness of certain contemporaries.
The ambition this EP is rooted in will be challenged: dealing with premature but deserved success, preserving their shoegaze but not really sound, and the general opposition to any political commentary. How the band chooses to grapple with these powers is somewhat immaterial - How the Mighty Will Fall and Long Distances have established themselves as guides to the dissonance and confusion of real life, quietly and then very loudly.
Credits for the cover photo - Abhishek Gupta