Silent Planet's frontman Garrett Russell has never been one to shy away from the subject of mental health. He lives with bipolar depression and anxiety, and has been very open about his diagnosis in several interviews. The band's second album Everything Was Sound has an entire meta-narrative about mental illness, informed by Garrett's master's degree in clinical psychology and internship as a college counselor. However, his own struggle with mental illness would soon inform the band's music in a rawer, more painful way. In November 2019, Garrett attempted to take his life while suffering a scary mental breakdown in Belgium in between shows on a European tour. Shortly after, he checked himself into a psychological rehabilitation facility for a month. Hospitalized and at the lowest point of his life, with the band's future in doubt, he tried to make sense of the broken pieces. That traumatic 24 hour span and the resulting psychogenic struggle shaped Iridescent, the band's fourth album. In Garrett's capable hands, lyrics about living with a stigmatized mental health condition are written with a rare depth, care, and raw honesty.
Iridescent is visceral in sound. Like “Native Blood”, which I wrote about previously, the intensity of the lyrics is matched by the music. Throughout, Alexrene Camarena's relentless percussion and Mitchell Stark's fast technical fretwork keep pace with Garrett's rapid-fire vocal delivery. Atmospheric passages both melodic (the ending of "Second Sun") and ominous ("liminal") weave in and out. Bassist Thomas Freckleton has traditionally handled almost all of the clean singing, but on here the duties are much more spread out, which adds further to the unpredictability. The opening tracks "112" and "Translate the Night" convey a dissonant, eerie atmosphere on the same level as Loathe, while the aggressive industrial-laced djent of "Anhedonia" and "Panopticon" echoes Northlane's recent forays on Alien. The emotive "Second Sun" and "Terminal" counter the chaos. On tracks like "The Sound of Sleep", this album is also reminiscent of Underoath's Ø (Disambiguation) (Garrett's favorite Underoath album as well as mine). Like that landmark album, Iridescent reflects its dark sound with desperate, soul-searching lyrics.
Whether intensely personal or discussing broader overarching issues, every track on Iridescent conceptually fits into place. "Trilogy", initially a standalone single on February 2020, was penned in one session by Garrett during his hospitalization. The band finished and recorded the song shortly after he was released. In it, he expresses a longing to heal and feel human again amidst the cyclic, clockwork structure of life in a mental facility. The sole break from the chaos is when Thomas enters on the chorus, singing "Be still and human." This frantic, fast-paced song encapsulates the manic state, as he screams about static in his head before the sound dissolves into distortion in the final seconds. Iridescent's second single "Panopticon", named for an observation tower centralized within a circle of prison cells, alludes to a concept introduced on Everything Was Sound. In an in-depth 2016 interview, Garrett explained how the panopticon on that album represents "the stigmatization of mental health and the way that we understand disorders", with the prisoner of each cell representing a different mental illness. At the end, the prison is destroyed. The track "Panopticon" has no guitars at all - just bass, drums, and electronics - and takes this concept in a more dystopian direction ("They see all but we see one/Shut down the system/Burn away the veil/What waits? A face behind a face behind a face"). The buzz of the bass strings is audible as Thomas’ low-end crunch provides the ideal backdrop. Lyrics allude to addiction to technology and screens, something Garrett was experiencing in an unhealthy way prior to the November tour.
On a similar note, the furious "Alive, As a Housefire" rages against the dehumanizing, machine-like nature of unjust systems. Written during the June 2020 protests, it lyrically parallels "No Place to Breathe" as both tracks reference police violence against African Americans and generational trauma ("Cold as the empire that stole away your breath... and long as the history they poured inside your chest"). "Alive, As a Housefire" notes how it often takes a drastic event to recognize corruption ("We hide in the guise of benevolence until the system burns"). While this track is obviously about brokenness on a large scale, its catharsis and anger make its inclusion on Iridescent ideal. Fire is also referenced multiple times throughout the album, including "Terminal" ("Burn the forest for the splinters"), "The Sound of Sleep" ("Bastard sun/you'll burn alone"), and "Anhedonia" ("Lost inside a fevered dream/Set fire to the forgery"). The latter track specifically addresses the devastating fires that occurred in northern California, not far from Garrett's hometown of Redding. "Anhedonia" takes its title from the depression and numbness he felt for a while afterwards, unable to take pleasure in things he normally enjoyed.
While Garrett's mental health struggle has been referenced on previous Silent Planet material, Iridescent is more akin to a trip into his own psyche in metalcore form. The beautiful, haunting "Terminal" reflects raw desperation with nothing lost in translation. This song is dominated by disassociated sounding clean vocals (sung by Garrett and guitarist Mitchell) floating over dissonant guitar riffs. The ghostly, detached atmosphere echoes Garrett's shift from reality as he took mind-altering medications in the hospital. He wonders if the anesthetizing, mood stabilizing drugs are only masking the hopelessness and brokenness he feels. The way he tentatively sings, "The hourglass is vacant/Sand turns to medication/You can fill me but I'll never be full/I'm slipping to sedation/The seconds are contagious/Can you tell me if I'm terminal?" is beautiful and heart-wrenching. Every lyric reflects this existential and spiritual tumult as he underwent treatment. During the months leading up to Garrett's mental breakdown, severe depression, anxiety and fear of failure (often centered around losing his voice) weighed heavily on him. "The Sound of Sleep" is about his insomnia leading up to his mental collapse. As a central symptom of bipolar disorder, disturbance in sleep cycles is very frequent during manic episodes. Garrett's thoughts of lying awake at night ("I learned to forget how to lose myself in a dream until I sink/I learned to forget the intervals of syllables that sound like sleep") tell just how routine his sleeplessness has become. Alex’s drumming is standout here, as he lays down an ominous rhythm.
Garrett's lyrics contain many attachment themes of self-worth, despair, and questions of brokenness. In his words, "This album, for me, was the first time that I allowed myself the space to look at my demons long enough to give them names and try and describe their faces." Iridescent doesn't conclude with easy answers or a neat resolution, allowing room for a present ambiguity. To do so on an album this unflinchingly honest would be disingenuous. However, a few rays of light and faith remain present. Most notable is the penultimate song "Till We Have Faces", which takes its title from a C.S. Lewis novel. Metanoia, a term in Christian theology meaning spiritual transformation and repentance, is referenced in the lyrics. In the midst of instability, he finds grace within the darkest depths ("Laying inside the lowland, I bowed within the reeds/I gave myself to consequence when grace devoured me"). "Second Sun" echoes faith in the divine presence in the closing line, "Every turn returns to You." In the midst of self-doubt and guilt, the grace and support Garrett received from the band and community ensured that those 24 hours wouldn't mark the end of Silent Planet. The Night God Slept's opening song "The Well", is also interpolated: "Hold us together when the fear tears us apart/Lovers, forever, you are the answer to the dark". The closing title track, a tribute to Garrett's dog Birdie who passed away that year, contains glimpses of eternity in the midst of a farewell - where all that is broken will be made new again.
Silent Planet's Iridescent deals with mental health in a more personal and painful way than their previous material, and the entire band handles this concept to perfection. I wish all the best for Garrett and his bandmates going forward and hope he can find a space of peace, recovery, and happiness. Simultaneously volatile and introspective, Iridescent is well deserving of a 10/10 score. I'll leave you with a link to a 2020 interview between Garrett and former Sleeping Giant vocalist Tommy Green. While difficult to listen to (be aware that it contains detailed discussion of medication, mental illness and suicide attempts), ultimately grace, hope and resilience is present in the midst of darkness, much like Iridescent itself. There is a beautiful prayer at the end that speaks of how every broken piece is gathered and not one lost. If you are going through any of the struggles described here, please never be afraid to seek the help and support you need, wherever that help may be for you. Lovers forever. Birdie forever.
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