Man Of The Year is one of my top favourites of all time. Although I could never bring myself to ever make a ranking list of my favourites of all time (because it would be too heartbreaking to have to choose between songs), I can confidently say it would be top 5 in this hypothetical list. It's so chaotic in all the best ways and its emotion is unparalleled. It feels unreal, as if Dance Gavin Dance had to transcend this plane of existence to write this. I never know how to accurately write about the songs that makes me feel things but the best part about being a poet is that I don't have to make sense when I write about things, and this is one of those times.
If I had to pick one thing about the song that I love the most, it's how monumental it feels. The emotion evokes throughout its five and a half minute runtime is cinematic, as if it were a movie. A riveting storyline full of highs and lows, striking moments mixed with tasteful suspense, a bleeding ultimatum and a bittersweet tone. The way they wrote this song with such intentful sentiment can be felt through the performance. It's an amazing thing to experience, and it was one of the most blissful revelations when I first let this song sink into my bones.
The introduction rolls in like a soft fog, painting the picture of two people and a strained connection. The guitar riff trades complexity for atmosphere and the drums forgo intensity for pacing, as Tilian's angelic vocals set the scene. It's a beautifully simple soundscape to get familiar with, before they rain fire.
Like a switch flip, the entire dynamic changes, falling face first into furious screams and violent drumming, blast beats and swift riffage. Jon's usual pseudo-nonsensical lyricism seems to take on a new form, where serious sentiment seems to have replaced the lighthearted comedy, not losing any insanity. Tilian starts to near the border of screams as his vocals find grit in the fury, and the soundscape starts to rage.
The pre-chorus finds themselves in their best vocal dynamic, a back and forth sing-to-scream dance. They effortlessly overlap their lines without stepping on each others toes, and complement each other like poison and fire. The instruments bend to their will, to fit the needs of the sound as they go.
They bring the intro back for the chorus, but with such a vicious bite to it. Tilian's range starts to reach heaven with a little bit more screaming, before Jon takes over with the hellish screams he has. The dissonance starts to flow in as the instruments take center stage for a bit, boasting a jarring rhythm and an oddly stylish melody.
The song enters the calm before the storm, with Tilian laying out a confession and the instruments rearing up for the finale. The guitars start to drench themselves in a regretful reverie as we get ready to meet the end, and the drums take the more scenic route with the marching-esque beat.
The grand finale of the song, where the sky starts to fall and the last alive stands in the midst of the fire, transcends the soundscape in the most surreal way possible. The few final screams seal the fate before both Tilian and Jon blend into the instrumental and the guitar carries the final flag to the finish line. Only at the end does the line "fade into the grave" close the book with a certainty.
I can't very well put into words why this song evokes so much emotion. This is where music and sentiment collide and not much of language even comes near to describing it. There's plenty of excellent musicianship in this song, no doubt, but coupled with a more than equal amount of passion and feeling, it's as perfect as it gets.
I won't be surprised if not a lot of people share my opinion on this, and I don't mind. It's a niche heaven, this song that I love. In the year I found this gem, I played it 278 times (thanks spotify wrapped), if you need any more proof how much I love this song. The ultimate track of Mothership, in both meanings, is an absolute, undeniable yes from me.
Rating: 5/5