Band break-ups are inevitable. In-fighting, member changes, or something as simple as growing older and having your priorities change has taken its toll on even the world's biggest bands. The truth is, the only guarantee in music is that the bands you love will eventually break up, go on hiatus, fade out, etc. However, music is a personal connection unlike any other, where favorites are not only selected, but worshiped, obsessed over, and immortalized by their fans. While music is cyclical, with bands, musicians, and ideas being recycled, re-imagined, and diluted year in and year out, there is no denying that certain bands do it better, louder, and differently than anyone before them had ever done. And the world lost one of those bands this week.
It's easy to talk about what Underoath has done. It will be far more difficult to gauge the impact the band has had on their fans, the scene, and themselves. If your new favorite band has swoopy haircuts, they're probably ripping off of Underoath's swoopy hair cuts from the days of Chasing Safety. You think today's screamo bands implementing electronic elements to their blend of post-hardcore? Underoath wrote the book. Your favorite band was on an MTV show? Underoath was nominated for a Grammy. Your favorite band had a singer whose issues with alcohol got him booted from the band? Underoath had those, but instead of kicking him out, they nurtured him back to good health, and thanks to their faith in Chamberlain, his lyrics and vocals only improved, and the band soared into the throne of post-hardcore. In a scene where every metalcore band overused the same breakdowns and lyrical themes, Underoath pushed the boundaries with every move they made, being defined by their ability to be creative and progressive rather than their ability to regurgitate the same album twice (or more). In a scene that challenges fans to hate those around them, Underoath sought to help their listeners love themselves, never stooping to profanity-laced lyrics of revenge or hatred, and rather focusing on acceptance and maturing. In a scene where some bands used their Christianity as a ploy for popularity, Underoath used their faith to inspire others not to conform, but to think, and analyze. The band never let their personal issues define them; they used them for inspiration, and became an inspiration for those looking for something to hold onto when things around them were falling apart.
It's true that every band's day will come. But with Underoath announcing that after 13 years of changing the game, I can't help but feel torn. At one end, I'm upset that the band have ended what will likely be a genre-defining career, but on the other hand, it's difficult to see what else the band had left to do. They've inspired and brought hope to millions of fans across the world, turned in two gold-selling albums, two deluxe re-releases of albums, countless hours of bonus live footage, and paved the way for bands like The Devil Wears Prada, Oh, Sleeper, letlive., and countless others to make a name for themselves. Of course, we'll miss the band: Chamberlain's constantly self-examing lyrics, the atmosphere created by keyboardist/mixer/producer Chris Dudley's visual setup in the band's life setting, and his energy onstage, the guitar tandem of Timmy McTague and James Smith that helped power Chamberlain's lyrics into the hearts and souls of fans, the basslines Grant Brandell pummeled into the speakers, headphones, and PA systems, and Davison's drumming, which looked to be a welcome addition to the band. But we'll still have (They're Only Chasing Safety)'s melodic anthems, the powerful, inspiring Define the Great Line, the explosive Lost in the Sound of Separation, and the evolution through experimentation that is Disambiguation. Underoath are icons. Underoath are an inspiration. But most of all, Underoath are one of the bands that changed my life. And so, to Spencer, Chris, Grant, Tim, James, Daniel, Aaron, the band's label, management, crew, and fans, thank you for being one of the biggest parts in my life since I was fifteen years old.
Love,
Donald.
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