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“Hold me in a dim-lit world”: How Dayseeker’s DARK SUN (2022) became my refuge from grief


Foto: Offi­cial Day­seek­er Press Kit


“Effortless, the way you left me.”

Unlike tran­sient human bonds that tend to bleed their way into my life at the least fit­ting junc­tures, new music typ­i­cal­ly finds me in the right place at the right time.

“Hold me in a dim-lit world
So I can learn how bad it hurts”


For months, Day­seek­er had lin­gered on the periph­ery of my musi­cal radar. 

How­ev­er, amidst the emo­tion­al roller­coast­er this year has ush­ered in—oscillating between euphor­ic highs and the abyss of depression—I allowed many of my musi­cal aspi­ra­tions to fade into oblivion. 

“So how do I live in a dreamstate? When nothing is real when I’m awake?”

But by the time Novem­ber unfold­ed, with the bleak winds of my own recent heart­break echo­ing through the dig­i­tal void in the form of emo tweets, one soli­tary track from Dayseeker’s 2022 record, DARK SUN, had become the first song to be played each day on the way to work and every­where else. “Cry­ing While You’re Danc­ing,” on repeat, grad­u­al­ly solid­i­fied Day­seek­er as my top-lis­tened artist of the past few weeks. 

“Meet me where the lines blur together
It’s 4 a.m. and I can’t sleep

You make me feel homesick”

Once again, I seek refuge in music to nav­i­gate my grief of sev­er­ing yet anoth­er con­nec­tion, of see­ing yet anoth­er sun go dark. A life­time of wait­ing, sit­ting, hop­ing, a life­time of feel­ing unwant­ed, insuf­fi­cient. A life­time of sens­ing the lover with­in me slow­ly fad­ing away amidst the trauma. 

A life­time of bear­ing the weight of it all. As DARK SUN wash­es over me from begin­ning to end, the trau­ma and grief accu­mu­lat­ed over a life­time find res­o­nance with 1.2 mil­lion kin­dred spir­its. In a world pop­u­lat­ed by 8 bil­lion, it often feels as if I am an iso­lat­ed island nobody wants to dwell on for long. “To be able to tell apart the fine line between resilience and liv­ing is to under­stand the vio­lence that seeps from my long-lost suns,” I tweet­ed last night. Iron­i­cal­ly, I’ve made of myself a “sunkiller,” in my writ­ing and my art, pen­ning vers­es about extin­guish­ing my own suns, while Day­seek­er releas­es an album bear­ing the title DARK SUN, and grief is at the heart of it all.

“So take me in the afterglow”
Afterglow (Hazel’s Song)

Return­ing to the piv­otal track that ini­ti­at­ed my curios­i­ty, “Cry­ing While You’re Danc­ing” seam­less­ly blends ‘80s dis­co homage with met­al­core influ­ences. It trans­ports me into a dream world rem­i­nis­cent of Hurts’ “Lights,” a place where I’m swept away into a dream­scape of danc­ing, lov­ing, and weep­ing in equal measure. 

In this sur­re­al world, as in my own, the act of cry­ing while danc­ing has been a fre­quent occur­rence. There have been more instances than I care to tal­ly, but amidst the col­lec­tive eupho­ria, a smile masks the silent tears.

“Cry­ing While You’re Danc­ing” cap­tures the essence of the dance­floor, yet also chan­nels the pro­found sen­ti­men­tal­i­ty of intense emo­tions often surg­ing with­in the nur­ture of a joy­ous space, where heart­break res­onates the loud­est amidst the cheers from others.

“Now you’re coming down and falling fast
Where you end up, you’ll break like you are made of glass”


In the after­math of those nights, once the intox­i­cat­ing rush of dopamine wanes, I find myself inca­pac­i­tat­ed in my own soli­tude, leav­ing me unable to leave the bed, hold­ing on to my heart as I cry into my pil­lows. Sud­den­ly the prospect of seek­ing that same eupho­ria appears futile, it all feels so emp­ty I could scream.

I’m indeed falling fast and ris­ing even faster. 
Effort­less, the way you left me.


Mer­cy Fer­rars is a MA grad­u­ate in phi­los­o­phy and writes fic­tion, poet­ry and non-fic­tion essays. She is mad­ly in love with Scot­land, dogs and Bojack Horseman.