Sophia
Technology Won't Save Us

Disclaimer: I tend to apologize to the Publishers and the readers for the perhaps excessive length of this review. If you decide not to publish it, so be it, I understand, but if someone chooses to read it to the end, they will understand the reason behind this excessive and possibly tiring elaboration.

What I'm about to review is the latest album by Sophia, from the ex-God Machine, titled "Technology Won't Save Us". The genre in question is a shadowy post-rock that alternates acoustic moments with others more distinctly electric, not disdaining Mogwai-like openings (if you know what I mean).

This will be a somewhat different review from my previous ones: I don't know why, but while listening to the songs on this album, only images, moments I've lived, emotions I've experienced, or scenes from movies I've seen came to mind. All this made me appreciate these compositions perhaps beyond their objective value, but after all, the beauty of music is also this. It indeed has a power and expressiveness rarely communicable in other forms, and when it gets inside you, it flows through your veins and takes hold of your memories and imagination, letting you wander freely through the universe created by the notes.

A suggestion: if you already own the album in question, try listening to the individual songs while reading the commentary I have written...

Chapter I, Technology Won't Save Us: a sailboat sinking into the depths of the sea. The water is dark, terribly dark, the vessel sinks slowly, peacefully, cradled by waves and caressed by the algae until it settles on the bottom. But we move to the surface: a storm hits the sailors who have sought an escape route from the shipwreck by jumping into the water. The scene is dramatic: men cling to planks, shattered lifeboats are overturned and drag the poor survivors down. The last time I see them is at minute 3:28 when they sink and drown, overwhelmed by the raging storm and its fury.

Chapter II, Pace: in the car, alone, I'm driving. The day is beautiful, cold but sunny, and I'm on a winding road that snakes through woods and hills, typical of my region. The sun filters between oak trees, and I am happy because I am reaching the person I love. Behind me are the worries of a life always lived running, without pause, with problems at every turn. In front of me, just her, the person I love, the person I’m driving towards, and I need nothing else to feel happy, serene, and at peace with myself.

Chapter III, Where Are You Now: Scotland. The typical Scottish rain falls steadily and heavily, but it doesn't bother me. I climb a hill, emerald green, which, despite the rain and gloom, shines with unnatural reflections. I walk with my head down, lost in thoughts, and without even realizing it, I reach the top. Lifting my eyes, I see the sea, the cold sea of Edinburgh, and there I stop to stare at it. It doesn't rain anymore, but it’s cold, and only a warm blanket stolen from the hotel protects me from the sharp wind. I look at the sea, the distant islets, searching there for a solution to my problems and worries. Then I lower my head and start the descent again: the answer hasn't come, but I descend with a smile because I know I've reached at least the inner balance, that yes.

Chapter IV, Big City Rot: the metropolis. At Christmas, everything is more joyful in the city, but oh, the hypocrisy... Black-and-white images, everything moves as if at double speed, but only some details move at a reduced speed: the lazy steam coming out of manholes and a beggar, on the sidewalk edge, who no longer even has the strength to raise a hand to ask for help. A rich woman passes by, wearing furs, she drops a glove: the beggar picks it up, calls her to return it, and she, disgusted as a response, picks it up and throws it in the bin, just because the poor man touched it, and walks away. He shakes his head, and with a desperate smile collapses again to the ground and surrenders once more to his stupor.

Chapter V, Twilight At The Hotel Moscow: ancient Japan. The samurai stands before his opponent, his gaze fixed into the void. The wind blows, carrying with it pink peach petals, letting them fall on a small pond. The pre-duel wait is brief but seems like an eternity to the samurai, who slowly reviews his entire life: his wife, the two children to whom he taught his art, his father, and his childhood. He knows he left nothing unresolved behind, and he knows it might be his last fight, but he has no regrets because he knows he has been a model father, husband, and son. Then he sighs, draws the katana, and charges against his opponent.

Chapter VI, Birds: everyday life. This is perhaps the simplest image to tell because it is universally shared. A problem troubles you, something is wrong, and you lie on the bed, pensive, pondering. Nothing seems to go right, then suddenly a spark, and everything resolves: you find a solution, an answer, or simply convince yourself you’ve found it, and as if by magic everything changes. The world seems to fall at your feet, it seems like when a cloudy sky is broken by the sun, which makes its way through the gray with its rays. And that's how you regain the spirit to overcome even that problem and move forward.

Chapter VII, Lost (She Believed In Angels): a friend's funeral. A young man finds himself participating in the funeral of a dear friend. Everyone is there: relatives, more or less intimate friends, his girlfriend. In the evening, after the funeral, the young man meets with other friends, all acquaintances of the deceased, at a pub. No one speaks of the event, silence dominates, and everyone dives into their memories, the memories shared with the friend who is no longer there. No one cries, everyone only remembers the good times, the silly things they did together. Thus, our protagonist breaks the ice and says, "Do you remember when all together...", a sentence that feels liberating. Everyone chimes in, each telling their funny story, and the boy buried a few hours before is evoked, and he will remain with them forever, imprinted with his smile in their memories.

Chapter VIII, Weightless: the crisis. He and she, seated at a table, thoughtful. This is yet another discussion; fundamental misunderstandings have lately undermined their relationship. He tries to talk, attempts to explain, reach out to her, console her, and show her reality from another perspective. However, she is firm in her decisions, doesn't go back: an air of calm hovers over everything but it's driven by a fundamental resignation. In the end, she shakes her head seriously and despairingly for the last time, then stands up and goes, leaving him sitting alone with his thoughts.

Chapter IX, P.1 / P.2: the crisis is averted. A similar situation to the previous one, only this time the discussion is much more heated. She accuses him of not supporting her enough, of not being there for her sufficiently. He counters because he knows he's right, knows he would sacrifice everything for her, every moment, and doesn't accept such reproach. Finally, he manages to make her think, to make her understand that he will always be there for her, as long as she wants and believes more in the strength of the couple. The two embrace, and again what seemed like the end of their story turns into a normal lovers’ quarrel.

Chapter X, Theme For The May Queen N°3: Pompeii. The earth shakes, first gently, then a tremendous jolt alerts the population that the volcano has awakened. A gigantic roar stuns everyone, as a rain of lapilli mixed with ash begins to rain down on the helpless villagers. Magma starts to descend slowly from the mountain's summit, overwhelming everything in its path; a dense and unbreathable smoke rises, the rain of debris grows stronger and stronger. Then everything calms, and at the moment when the smoky and ashen cloak lifts, there's no one left screaming or running for shelter. There are only dark silhouettes immobilized forever in a grimace of horror, silent witnesses of what nature is capable of doing if it decides to lift just one finger. And faced with such power, technology certainly won't save us.