It’s difficult to live, and it’s difficult to think clearly when you’re stuck in your own bubble of fear. You try to close your eyes and sleep for a minute, but the loud beeping noises in the hospital room put you in a restless motion, and you want to cry frantically to ease the tension. The smell of stale food lingers, and every moment seems to sap all your energy, while the clock ticks, and your churning stomach begins to groan.

Throughout Touché Amoré’s album Stage Four, a broken musician spills all about his trials and tribulations, and how a disease took his Mother. Stage Four commands the emotions, and it delivers an intensity that is blistering, and frontman Jeremy Bolm presents his voice of reason that never stalls. Lyrically, he intelligently weaves words that aren’t dramatic for the sake of shock value, but tell us fully what he’s thinking and feeling.

The narrative burst is thrilling in its poetry and although its dark in subject, it can’t be understated, and Stage Four, if assessed completely, is a masterclass in storytelling, a juggernaut record, which deals with a subject and theme that’s sombre. Not many records deal with such themes, and not many have that depth either.  

It’s gratifying to have an album in the form of Stage Four, because it’s deeply connected to realism, and Bolm shares his views in a sincere way. His Mother’s cancer battle is the focal point, and when Bolm angrily bellows about how unfair the world is, he becomes this enraged monster with red eyes and the strength to obliterate his own private hell.

The album blooms in its darkness, and the guitar moments merge seamlessly with the vocals and screams from Bolm. He sings his heart out, and he proves that he loves his mother. Describing the ongoing battle with his own mental health makes him scream even more, and while he tries to focus on something else, he can’t. There’s no sunshine in his life either, no miracles, and definitely no moments of sheer clarity.

It’s a poignant record, and it can make you feel tearful as the joy fades out. Flowers And You begins the album, and it’s an emotional opener, proving that Bolm is hurting terribly, and that he’s cascading into the void with a bottle of wine in hand. The guitar riffs are pleasing, and they increase the tension. Lyrically, the song starkly portrays hell on earth:

I apologize for the grief
When you’d refuse to eat
I didn’t know just what to say
While watching you wither away

Throughout this track he apologises for it all, though none of it is his fault. The cancer has spread through his Mother’s body, and there’s nothing he can do to halt it. Emotionally put, the track opens the album in terms of subject and theme, and it clearly showcases a fight for hope when it’s hanging by a thin thread.

Bolm deeply pens these songs that show his talents and understanding. He’s aware of the world and its broken landscape. His songs have this aura that pulls the listeners in, leaving them breathless and clearly astounded by the work.

So many of these songs hit the grain, and they resonate on a high level, giving us a chance to reflect on our own lives. By gifting us this record, Jeremy Bolm (Vocals) guitarists Clayton Stevens, Nick Steinhardt, bassist Tyler Kirby and drummer Elliot Babin, have opened up their minds and hearts for the long haul.

Like a wave, like the rapture
Something you love is gone, something you love is gone
Like a wave, like the rapture
Something you love is gone, something you love is gone
Someone you love is gone, someone you love is gone
It leaves you fractured

The Rapture sits on the mind and it draws the emotions from a profound place. It’s a track conveying how lost Bolm is and how it’s going to take many years for him to come to terms with loss. It’s difficult to breakaway from it, it’s difficult to rearrange thoughts in a broken mind, a mind which stores snapshots and memories, and Bolm hurts like a man that has had everything he loves stripped away from him. On this track, the instrumentals are unsurprisingly breakneck and they complement the hard-hitting themes.

Palm Dreams is another fast-paced track with screams that shudder, and it develops on, turning into something colossal:

I am still bereaved
Come every ocean breeze
Was it all the palm trees
Placed where they shouldn’t be
That made you feel complete
In this land of make believe

Bolm sings with authority, and he doesn’t damage the record’s themes. He dishes out his feelings, and he doesn’t hold anything in. Candidly put, the song is one of the most revealing on such a richly diverse album. The pounding percussion is like a throbbing, out of sync heartbeat.

Water Damage opens slowly, conveying throughout Bolm’s thoughts on his mother’s decline. She’s managing to stay in this world, but the cancer is taking its toll, riffling through her body, sweeping aside the goodness. Bolm screams for justice, he screams for less panic, and he wants to see his mother rise up from the chair and flourish into a person who has survived a sinister disease.

It’s a pipe dream though, and he’s breaking at the seams, losing the will to live in such a despairing world. Stage Four openly describes a boy who wants his mother to recapture the days when she held him closely, and the days when she could breathe freely.

This album is a collection of songs displaying a subject that many can’t put into words, but Jeremy Bolm has with honest precision. His intelligent storytelling proves the lead singer is a talented poet who doesn’t boast either. From the beginning to the conclusion of Stage Four, everything clicks into place musically and lyrically, bringing forth a commanding yet melancholic sound, and while it may not be for everyone, it has the power to resonate.  

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