Spending time with your true emotions and thoughts can be a harrowing experience, and few bands have been able to capture the highs and (mostly) lows of life like Ontario metalcore giants Counterparts. On their phenomenal new record, A Eulogy for Those Still Here, out October 7 via Pure Noise Records, they reaffirm their status as the kings of sad. Though, despite the morbid title and typically harrowing subject matter, Counterparts’ latest feels like a hopeful record, a celebration of life.
My wife and I have two black cats. Our oldest, Toni, has been with us since before we got married 10 years ago, and he was diagnosed with diabetes at the beginning of the pandemic and has had two near-death experiences since then. I’ve always appreciated vocalist Brendan Murphy’s lyrics, but “Whispers of your Death” hit me harder than most, a raw recounting of a moment when Murphy’s beloved cat was nearly lost:
“My ex and I did get Kuma, (early on during the pandemic). I’ve been pretty much touring since the day I graduated high school, so that was all I’ve known since I was 18. So we got him, and my ex, she was an essential worker. She was working throughout the whole thing at an addictions center, and she didn’t get any time off. But with me, it was like that was the only time where I wasn’t able to just go and just be gone forever.”
“We got him, and that took over my life,” he continues. “I’m spending 24/7 with this cat. We just were not apart for the entire thing. So when he got sick, that was really hard because it was like I found something that matters to do. I was always the Counterparts guy or the END guy or whatever, and then when we got him, it was like, ‘Oh, my new purpose is being your dad. I have to take care of you. That’s why I’m here now,’ and (I realized) I would do anything for him. So it was so frustrating to not be able to figure out what was going on. It’s like Kuma saved me, so I got to do the same for him now. I am thankful that he’s still kicking. The original vet that we brought him to, they said three to six weeks, and it’s been two years now.”
It’s weird to thank another grown man for a song about a cat, but I have a wife and two cats, and I think the person I treat worst in this house is me, by far. It’s clear the song has resonated with fans way more than Murphy expected:
“Yeah definitely. I remember when I was recording the lyrics, (producer) Will (Putney) said, ‘Dude, people are going to hear this and think that your wife died or some shit.’ I get that it’s excessive, but especially with Counterparts and stuff, I’ve always been very open, and Counterparts is my outlet to talk about these things and let people in and tell them how I feel. The first line is, ‘Banging from the floor.’ I wrote that because I was literally on the kitchen floor waiting to hear back from the vet, and I was crying so hard that I popped blood vessels in my face. My parents had to come get me because they were worried I was going to blow my brain out. So it’s cool to bring to light and talk about it and be like, ‘This really shitty thing did happen, but I’m thankful that everything’s OK now,’ if that makes sense.”
Murphy is quick to lampoon himself, labeling genuine emotion goofy, but that’s very much in line with his brand—This is the guy who makes fun of himself almost as much as he chastises everyone else on Twitter. The sad and the silly go hand in hand, and I greatly appreciate that. The theme of the A Eulogy for Those Still Here is about dealing with things by preparing for the end. For anyone who has anxiety, that worst-case-scenario vision will come across familiar, but there’s a silver lining in all of it, as Murphy acknowledges:
“It’s like, am I going to be OK with this goodbye, or is this going to be one of those things where for the rest of your life, you’re just like, Maybe I could have done it in a better way?’ It definitely is anxiety for sure, and it’s not crippling, but I’m a pretty anxious person, definitely. So in a weird way, it helps to help you prepare (for whatever happens). Like, what if this is the last thing that I ever get to say to someone or something? Am I going to be cool with this, or is there going to be something else I wish I would’ve said? And just not leaving anything behind.”
This translated into the musical element as well—Counterparts were thoughtful about creating something that could last even if they didn’t (Not that they don’t plan to!). The result is the most confident version of their consistent vision: contrasting beauty and brutality, a comforting catastrophe.
“No one knows if this is going to be the last thing I ever do with my life that has my name on it, so I have to start treating it as if it always is because it’s like, if Counterparts breaks up tomorrow, and this record comes out, it’s like, I would be OK with it being over. I wanted to make sure that this whole record, if it is the last Counterparts record, I’d be happy with it. I could look back on it and feel proud of what I did and said.”
It’s a morbid-yet-hopeful representation of the pain of making art. Part of the reason Murphy goofs on the process is because every album takes so much out of him, as he explains:
“It is really hard to keep coming up with new ways of talking about my mental health and my relationships that fall apart and all these things. It’s like, it is really draining to do the record. Our merch guy, Kenny, he’s my best friend. There was one day I was writing lyrics, and he was outside having a cigarette and looked in through the window, and he’s like, ‘Dude, you were face down on the ground with your laptop beside you for 30 minutes, and you didn’t even look up at all.’ Yeah, because I was tapped out. It really is draining to do it.
“I’m surprised it got finished, for sure, but it’s the best feeling on earth when I’m leaving Will’s house, and the shit’s done, I’m like, ‘All right, fine. I’ll do another one. Yeah, whatever. Maybe it’s not so bad. The director’s pretty good. OK. I like this still.’ But during it, I’m just like, ‘Holy shit. I want to be anywhere but here.’”
That honesty, and the wild swings of emotion, are part and parcel why fans have been attached to Counterparts since day one. Here’s hoping this eulogy is a happy one, a record that could be looked at as cementing Counterparts status as metalcore giants, though it can’t go too well. Could you imagine a major-key Counterparts record?
This interview is dedicated to Kuma.
Photo courtesy of Ben Ward
