I’ll be honest, I didn’t care much for Metals, initially.  I almost dismissed it completely, but C, being the total Feist fan boy that he is, went on about what a beautiful album it is.  I know, I get. I’ve liked Feist for a really long time.  Even when Let It Die came out and he teased me for liking “sad college girl music.”

I’ve always felt a sense of promise in Feist’s voice. A promise I thought fulfilled by The Reminder—an album that made me dance, smile, and cry. In comparison, Metals just felt too snoozy. But, in the last month, it has scarcely left my record player. It’s a somber album. One best listened to on a rainy day, or on a day that calls for a much needed cry. With that said, it’s a soothing album. I tried to remember what is was about Feist that drew me to her in the first place. It was her part in the Kings of Convenience song, “The build-up,” that really struck me. Her voice both piercing and soothing. It was a whisper, “The spinning top made a sound like a train across the valley/ fading, oh so quiet, but constant ’til it passed/ Over the ridge into the distances, written on your ticket/To remind you where to stop /And when to get off.”

Metals is that reminder of where to stop and when to get off. It’s ok to feel sad, it’s ok to listen to “sappy songs about what went wrong,” so long as you remember that “when the month changes numbers, it’s time to go.” We all get stuck in certain places we don’t want to be, be it a relationship, a job, etc. In the last year, I’ve learned that there is so much strength to be found in being vulnerable. It takes strength to be open–to understand that you can’t win without a willingness to lose, to understand that being open can lead to so much hurt, but the human spirit is resilient beyond measure and all things pass.

Metals is a giant gash across Feist’s chest. It’s vulnerable and all that more beautiful for it. It’s the album I’ve needed.