So the day has finally come. Experiencing concluding ceremony after concluding ceremony and hugging teary-eyed friends just before strolling off campus for good has been sentimental, let alone exhausting. Oh, and let’s not forget the strange between-college/work purgatory that is my room, with an entire dorm’s worth of miscellaneous goodies messily piled into corners to the point that where I sleep looks more like a permanent, uncleanable hell than an intermediary state between school and work. Regardless, all of these ceremonies were inevitably meant to cease, and I was inevitably destined to start the new ceremony otherwise known as “real life.”
In an act of symbolism relatable to many of us now entering the working world, London-based Dry the River was never meant to conform to the likes of dubbed out electronic music that so many bands are unjustifiably diving into today. In fact, their name says it all: no matter how shallow the noblest and truest path may seem, they are going to exhaust it of all the fruit it bears until their is nothing left to exhaust, simply because that’s who they are. This pursuit is filled with times of ominousness and unpredictability like the slow guitar picking and drawn out voice of lead singer Pete Liddle at the front and back of “New Ceremony.” It is filled with periods of drawn out angst like the waning violin in conjunction with powerful guitar stabs. Most importantly, it is filled with in-the-now moments of pure effort as characterized by the loud and meaningful chorus, with applicable lines like “Shine a little light / Don’t wrestle with the night / Don’t think about the future / I know it’s gonna stop love but I don’t know how.” So let’s get this thing started. It ain’t going to be easy, but dammit, it just has to happen.