Grief comes for us all. Your dog dies. You get dumped. Your all-time favorite band goes and releases an album that you hate so much it feels like they did it on purpose just to get rid of you. And maybe they did. Were you super weird to them after a show or something? In any case, let’s get through this. Put on your headphones and get ready to cry off your waterproof eyeliner. It’s time to mope through the five stages of grief.
Stage One: Denial
Okay, they dropped the first single and it’s a hot mess. They’ve attempted some sort of sludge-ska-synth-pop nightmare. The lyrics are just “goat blood” over and over. There’s even an autotuned kazoo, however, that part was pretty sick. As the horror and nausea creep in, you frantically try to find some explanation. It’s an elaborate prank. Or the edible from your roommate was a lot stronger than you thought and you’re having auditory hallucinations. Keep grasping at straws until you pass out.
Stage Two: Anger
The entire album is a sonic tragedy. Your simmering rage boils over as track nine’s guttural spoken-word interlude over maracas hits the four-minute mark. Nothing left to do but grab a sledgehammer, a hefty bottle of lighter fluid, and every album you bought from those traitors over the past 15 years.
Stage Three: Bargaining
With bleeding eardrums, singed-off fingertips, and a broken heart, you’re in a weakened state and ready to strike a deal. Get on your knees and beg. You scream out to God, Satan, Dio, and every record company executive you can Google. If there’s new music recorded and released within six weeks, you just might survive. You construct a makeshift altar sprinkled with the ashes of your beloved debut album vinyl. Ask your witchy friend to do the thing with the crystals and the dried flowers. It can’t hurt, right?
Stage Four: Depression
Oof. The less said here, the better. Your desperate prayers went unheeded. You retreat into a dark bedroom and wail into the one comfy tour hoodie you spared from destruction.
Stage Five: Acceptance (Sort Of)
Bad news: Two months later, the album still sucks. But at least you’ve created some decent memes to vent and bonded with other fans who also hate the new sound. Plus you’ll save money skipping this album’s tour. You’ve emerged from the depths of sobbing grief and you’re going to be okay. But don’t get too comfortable. You’ll get to go through all this again, except worse, when the band breaks up next year. Good luck!