In the years since recording his 2018 breakthrough, Unsung Passage, Gustafson had built words and songs of intense emotional reckoning. He had wrestled with relationships that failed spectacularly. He had contemplated growing up in and then apart from a devoted religious household. He had surveyed the damage of living hard in his 20s, partying in the back of vans as he prowled the interstates of the United States, reckless and free.
Before any of the songs detailing these reckonings emerged, Gustafson had the title Transmigration Blues—a reference to the Buddhist concept of a dead body’s soul migrating into another host. For Gustafson, though, it also represents the “little deaths” we all experience as we grow and evolve, the lessons and fables (however indirect) we take with us as we molt and slip from an old skin into our next one. This baggage was daunting, Gustafson admits, but he’s better for having sorted through it, having pulled it from his body at last. “It took a while to come back from,” he says. “But I would rather walk out of the studio feeling that way instead of it just being another day at the office.”
Those thoughts—powerful personal reflections on his place in the world, tardy attempts to find meaning in the moments of life he thought he’d left behind—are the core of Transmigration Blues, an album that transmogrifies heavy emotional burdens into some of the most disarming folk-rock you’ll ever hear. From the graceful string-swept recollections of “Deep Water, Strange Wind” to the radiant calls and responses of “Bama Boys Circa 2005,” Gustafson drags past darkness into present light. Transmigration Blues gets to the idiosyncratic heart and unorthodox past of Gustafson, who lives the contemplative rural life about which many of his peers simply sing.
In the past, The Dead Tongues have been a pragmatically sparse project. All his adult life, Gustafson has been an itinerant sort, whether hitchhiking across the West or simply touring hard. His songs as The Dead Tongues tended toward elemental arrangements that could quickly be stripped onstage to their acoustic essence, should he need to perform them alone. But for more than a year, Gustafson has rented a century-old cabin on a 100-acre spread amid the Blue Ridge Mountains, writing songs in a little triangular greenhouse flooded by light.
This newfound stability, coupled with the wider audience that the tender but troubled Unsung Passage cultivated, allowed Gustafson’s imagination to wander, wondering what his decidedly intimate thoughts would sound like played by an all-star band of collaborators new and old. He invited some of his longtime companions from Chapel Hill’s fertile roots music scene, all of Mountain Man, and a drummer with a separate percussionist. For nine largely sleepless days living and working at North Carolina’s Fidelitorium, they gave these songs everything they had. “I had never had the experience of working like that,” says Gustafson. “It was really trying and completely rewarding, just a huge release.”
From its first notes, when organ and piano peal warmly beneath Gustafson’s strummed guitar, Transmigration Blues summons the sounds of friends supporting one of their own as he works through the annals of existence. Laced with sharp electric leads and a kaleidoscope of harmonies and hand drums, opener “Peaceful Ambassador” celebrates the lows, the highs, and the sense of salvation that singing about both can supply.He taps a surfeit of natural beauty for “Equinox Receiver” — the Badlands and the East River, green forests and golden fields—to show how we’re all suspended somewhere between despair and fulfillment, just trying to do our best with what we have. As his small studio choir joins him, you can imagine an endless audience, joining in this perfect ode to survival.
The album’s epic centerpiece is “Déjà Vu,” a song about trying to find the actual space and air to function with any kind of contentment in these increasingly harried times. It’s a gorgeous, candid confession about the odds we all face just to be happy. Gustafson and the band stretch out for seven minutes, returning for a reprise as if to remind us we’re all in this primitive quest together. “The sky is crowded/with a million lights just trying to get through adarkness/and find a way through,” Gustafson sings at the start of the second verse, his voice quiet from the exhaustion of just being. In the chorus, everyone sings together, lifting one another toward those lights.
The world has changed drastically since Gustafson wrote and recorded these songs — entropy, you may say, has found the freeway. In this stark moment of uncertainty, The Dead Tongues’ hymns to understanding your past and finding renewal in the changing seasons are more vital than Gustafson might have ever imagined. They feel like a homecoming for yourself, a farewell for all the guilt you’ve stockpiled. At a time when admitting that most of us are doing the very best we can seems revolutionary, Transmigration Blues is a welcome statement of radical acceptance.
Depression
The Dead Tongues Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Like you get in to cars driving you home
Like she got in to .
And i got into drinking on my own
Hey it's nothing wrong
We're born in our graves
Hey there's nothing wrong
I believe
She's talking about tomorrow
I'm sitting in an empty livingroom
Said "where did half my life go?"
Well that's something we'll never know
Hey it's nothing wrong
.?
Hey there's nothing wrong
I believe I believe
The Dead Tongues's song "Depression" is a profound and poignant composition that reflects on the experience of depression. The first verse of the song compares the singer's bouts of depression to the act of driving a car home after a long day. The second line of the verse hints at a correlation between depression and alcoholism, where the singer admits to drinking alone. The chorus suggests that there is nothing wrong with feeling depressed and that humans are born in our graves, indicating that depression is a natural aspect of human existence. The second verse sheds light on the crippling nature of depression, where the singer is sitting in an empty living room, contemplating where half their life has gone. The line is mournful, indicating that depression can rob people of time, moments, and memories that they may never get back.
The final chorus returns to the notion that there is nothing wrong with experiencing depression and that the singer believes this to be true. This part suggests acceptance and hopefulness, which can be perceived as a message of reassurance for those going through the same experience.
Line by Line Meaning
Well I get in depression
I experience feelings of despair and hopelessness.
Like you get in to cars driving you home
Depression is an unavoidable state, much like getting into a car to drive home.
Like she got in to .
The singer implies that someone else has also experienced depression.
And i got into drinking on my own
The artist turns to alcohol as a way to cope with their depression.
Hey it's nothing wrong
The artist feels that there is nothing wrong with experiencing depression.
We're born in our graves
The singer suggests that death is an inevitability, and that life is a continuous journey towards death.
Hey there's nothing wrong
Same as the earlier line: the singer feels that depression is a normal part of life.
I believe
The artist is trying to maintain a positive outlook despite their depression.
I believe
Same as the earlier line - the artist is trying to stay optimistic.
She's talking about tomorrow
Someone else (a woman, presumably) is talking about the future in a positive way.
I'm sitting in an empty living room
The singer feels lonely and isolated, as evidenced by the empty living room.
Said "where did half my life go?"
The artist is questioning the direction his life has taken, and laments the passing of time.
Well that's something we'll never know
The singer is resigned to the fact that some things, such as the mysteries of life, will always be unknowable.
Hey it's nothing wrong
The singer reiterates that there is nothing wrong with feeling depressed or questioning the meaning of life.
.?
Unable to infer meaning without further context.
Hey there's nothing wrong
Same as before, the artist believes that it's okay to feel lost or unsure about life.
I believe
The artist clings to hope and positivity, even in difficult times.
I believe
Same as before, the singer is trying to stay optimistic in the face of adversity.
Contributed by Ryan J. Suggest a correction in the comments below.