When music gives meaning to life
I lost my mother last week. For those who have traversed the labyrinth of loss, the wrenching ache it leaves in its wake is an intimate acquaintance.
In the bewildering aftermath, where chaos reigns and reason falters, we instinctively search for meaning—grasping at fragments of understanding in a desperate bid to reconcile the unfathomable.
In the disorienting fog of grief, we often stumble upon unexpected sources of solace and significance. For me, amidst the shattered fragments of my world, it was music—specifically, one haunting melody—that served as a beacon of light in the darkness.
As I navigated the somber landscape of my mother’s final rites, a solitary song became my steadfast companion: Dear Heaven by Praise Umali, nestled within the tapestry of his recently unveiled sophomore album, ‘What We Become’.
I must admit, despite receiving the album pre-order—replete with a meticulously packaged flash drive, CD, lyric book, and Google Drive link—my resolve faltered, and time slipped through my fingers like grains of sand.
Allow me to elaborate. I’ve long been an ardent advocate for Praise Umali’s artistry, particularly lauding his debut opus, ‘September’. Yet, such fervent admiration carries its own weight—a burden of expectation that looms large; threatening disappointment should subsequent endeavors fail to meet the lofty standards set by the preceding album.
Hence, I hesitated—a cautious dance, teetering on the precipice of anticipation, awaiting the judgment of Malawi’s discerning music connoisseurs, apprehensive of either facing scorn or reveling in acclaim. Yet, fate intervened, denying me the luxury of proceeding at my own leisurely pace.
Thus, on a Sunday shrouded in mourning, amidst the collective lamentations of family and friends, I stumbled upon the album, albeit inadvertently. And though circumstance dictated that I replay track two—the haunting strains of Dear Heaven—throughout the somber procession of funeral rites, it was no mere coincidence.
Initially, the music served as a shield—a feeble attempt to deflect the onslaught of grief, to fill the gaping chasm left by my mother’s absence. Yet, as the haunting melody enveloped me, it transcended its role as mere distraction, weaving itself into the very fabric of my being.
They say the English language lacks words to encapsulate precise moments—those fleeting instances of profound emotion that seize us unexpectedly. For me, Dear Heaven was precisely that: apt.
Malawi’s musical landscape is fraught with the challenge of infusing raw emotion into compositions, particularly those addressing themes of death and bereavement. Too often, the music veers into hyperbole, the lyrics faltering in their attempt to capture the ineffable essence of loss.
Yet, Dear Heaven defies convention, offering solace amidst the deafening silence of grief—a silent reassurance that transcends words. It’s the subtle nuances—the delicate interplay of melody and emotion—that elevate a song from good to great, and an artist from proficient to virtuosic.
In ‘What We Become’, Praise Umali ascends to the zenith of his craft, delivering music that transcends the boundaries of time and space.
If my mother’s passing has taught me anything, it’s the fleeting nature of time—the cruel inevitability of its passage, indifferent to our desires and aspirations.
So, to those who find themselves ensnared in the relentless march of time, I implore you: spare just 32 minutes and 54 seconds to immerse yourselves in the 13 tracks of ‘What We Become’. Perhaps within those haunting melodies, you too will find solace—a song that resonates with the depths of your soul, as Dear Heaven did with mine in my darkest hour.
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