Westminster Park’s Fig. 4: Molt, Rebirth is like the hopeful clear-headedness that follows a good cry.
Maybe it’s the caffeine kicking in my chest. Perhaps it’s the fact I’m unemployed, with the money soon to run out. Whatever it is, I’m feeling scared. Anxious. Regretting every life decision I’ve ever made that has led me here, to this bed, wide awake at 3 ᴀᴍ on a Tuesday morning. There is only one thing to do in situations like these: listen to music and go for a walk.
I roll out of bed, get dressed, bundle into a jacket, slip in my headphones and step out the door. The cold winter air snaps. I tap my screen. Select an album at random. Westminster Park‘s Fig. 4: Molt, Rebirth. I push play. Track one, “Metamorphosis”, floats in, a soft instrumental. I already feel my spirit lifting.
Walking south towards the river on this cold winter night, my only company being Westminster Park- a quartet from London, Ontario led by a wife and husband duo. Their music is soft, almost whimsical. Their songs are so masterfully crafted they appear simple, with lyrics that remind you of the full scope of being human. The overall vibe feels sad. Not a dreadful sadness, but a warm sadness, like the hopeful clear-headedness that follows a good cry.
A breath in. The cloud of my exhale. The world feels safe under the orange glow of the streetlights, with Westminster Park piping in through my headphones. Fig. 4: Molt, Rebirth rolls into the track “Been Out Walking”, a little ditty that starts off with a gospel hum before slipping into a soothing heartfelt number that is carried forward with a steady, simple beat. The moment is too perfect, as if the great divine was setting the soundtrack of my life.
The heaviness lifts from my chest, and with each footfall, I fall fully in love with Westminster Park.