Monster, Monster

In another episode of “yet again, Jen writes what she needs to hear,” I found myself writing about facing fears. Specifically, about looking fears in the eye and realizing how familiar I already am with aspects of the very thing I’m scared of. I may be scared of a new location, until I remember that I’ve explored unchartered territory before; or I could be scared of an unfamiliar face until I realize that we have more in common than not. And, I might be scared of a new challenge until I realize that I have done difficult things before, too. In fact, I have survived 100% of the things I’ve ever been scared of. One day, there will be one singular frightening thing that I will not survive. But that day isn’t today, and until then I’m going to bank on the fact that my track record for survival is pretty fantastic.

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This is the concept for Monster, Monster. Humans since the dawn of time have embellished their fears with giant teeth, gargantuan size, or epic tales of terror. This piece draws on these terrifying stereotypes, except that the singer envisions actually meeting the monster face to face. That makes all the difference: looking at it, breathing with it, and being curious about our fears brings them into a manageable perspective.

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Musically, the synth growls beneath the voices as they fear the monster. But once they meet it, the synth finds a hooky groove that’s minor but far less menacing. The choir functions both as a crowd of terrified villagers as well as a brave soul who meets the monster, and voices often trade lines back and forth because sometimes bravery does feel like one step forward and two steps back. From within the safety in a choir’s numbers, looking at our fears enables us not to run from them, but instead to welcome them into the open sky.

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