DISCLAIMER: These won’t be proper reviews -as if I could write those- or have interesting technical tidbits on them. These are more of a “ah, that song reminds me of…” thing. Like the part you skip on a recipe. So it goes.

Album: Overgrown.

Release date: April 5, 2013.

Track: 5.

Moods: Breezy. Single snowflake drifting over an abandoned table.

2013 wasn’t a good year for me at all. Stalled on PhD work, sorta kinda abandoned this website, felt hopeless and defeated by doorknobs (I’ll explain soon). Mood wasn’t improved by the weather, as heavier snows happened that year. In a city, it’s quite the annoyance. In a topsy-turvy landscape like Sheffield’s never-ending hills, it’s ankle and knee torture.

I couldn’t step outside that day. The weather wasn’t that bad, the buses were running and they were the litmus test to check how bad did it snow. People walked around, on their cheap Primark winter clothes, sausage roll in hand, maybe a steaming cuppa. On to their productive routines. I had a routine too, a self-defeating one.

The city was silent, as with any snow day, but my house in particular was deadly silent. The lights were out, it was 9 am. The grey skies managed to filter through the mesh curtains, and the street light, orange sodium in hue, malfunctioning again, working on during the day. I had a cup of Percol Americano on my hand, the brand of coffee I swore by on those days. The steam was a velvet mist, playfully dancing in front of me, trying to cheer me up.

I could hear my breathing, the chattering of passersby below my window. Standing there, for hours, looking at the street, trying to convince myself to give the day a go, only to be defeated by the doorknob again.

My laptop was on the kitchen table, a couple of steps behind me. I sat down, and listened to the song again. I wasn’t keen on James Blake when The Wilhelm Scream came out, but Retrograde was another thing. I felt the sorrow on his vocals. I could find warmth in the sparse, minimalistic atmosphere. The lonely claps, his mournful vocalising. It was all perfect. It was the right song at the right time. When I was defeated by a doorknob, I’d scurry and find music I would find comforting.

What do I mean by being defeated by a doorknob? When you have depression, you could be all dressed up, showered, well-fed and ready to go out, but when you get to the door, you stop on your tracks, and slowly creep back to a safe place in the house. The first time it happened to me was in 2007, and it comes back, unannounced and uninvited, time and time again. 2013 was a year of constant defeats with doorknobs.

Although I’m feeling much better now, I still recall that unnamed feeling seeping through my memories of 2013. Snow wasn’t joyful any more. Silence was a threat. Nothing but defeating thoughts bursting everywhere, suddenly hitting you in the gut. I don’t have a negative memory of Retrograde, in fact I love the song even more now. Those were bad days, but they eventually go away. When they come back, I now know they will pass too.

—Sam J. Valdés López