Doomscroller

“Formentera” was Metric’s Pandemic Record, and nowhere is it more obvious than in this song.

In many ways, “Doomscroller” takes the listener through the all-important five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance), something that many people became very familiar with as the pandemic - very frighteningly - began to migrate from “two weeks to flatten the curve” into a much longer and more protracted lockdown.

Social media and “doomscrolling” became the order of the day. Friends and family who we had become accustomed to seeing two or three times a week (or more) were now reduced to a few pixels on a Zoom or FaceTime screen. “Life wasn’t made for one” Emily Haines sings on the album’s title track, “Formentera”, and we were all very quickly discovering the truth in that sentiment. When the real history of COVID is written, possibly many years from now, it’s not going to be about the disease. It’s going to be about the isolation, that aching sense of loneliness that permeated our very souls for so long. Children going through their formative years without any contact with other children. In retrospect, it was absolute madness – but it happened.

And all the while our computers, our smartphones became the absolute centre of our lives. Doomscrolling became the one activity we could all relate to. And we were in utter DENIAL of what was actually happening to the world:

“Was it an act of God or an accident? An act of God or an accident?”

By the time the ANGER began to set in, we didn’t know where to direct it. Should we be angry at our own governments? The Chinese? The doctor who put your father on a breathing tube last week, only to seal his fate a week later, when they finally had to turn off life-support? All we knew was that we had to be angry at someone:

“Arrogance of a coward hostile Scum of the earth overpaid to rob you Scum of the Earth overpaid to rob and mock resistance.”

And all the while, as we became more and more isolated, we continued to doomscroll:

“Dog whistle links to a torch song Torch song links to a statue burning Moon landing links to Q Anon Rabbit in a deep hole keep on dancing.”

The BARGAINING came from deep inside, and it came in the form of our own souls reaching out in the only way they knew how. “DON’T GIVE UP!” they screamed at us. Although it was very difficult to see, there WAS a light at the end of the tunnel:

“Don’t give up yet, don’t give up yet, don’t give up yet, don’t give up now, Don’t give up yet, don’t give up yet, don’t give up yet, don’t give up now…”

Ultimately, the pain became overwhelming. No matter how much we hopped that there would one day be a way out of this madness, the DEPRESSION seeped in on a level many of us had never experienced. The suicides began. Even when the vaccines arrived, many people (rightly) refused to trust them. The blaming got worse - not the blaming of the governments that had caused this madness, but the blaming of our fellow man: You’re unvaccinated? YOU’RE the cause of everything! You shouldn’t even be allowed to go to the doctor for anything! And my sister who gave me COVID? I’m never, EVER, speaking to her again!

All we could do was feel deep, unmitigated pain. The depression was palpable, and by trying to treat it, all we seemed to be able to do was magnify it:

“Take something for the pain Not something to conceal it More like a magnification mirror full-size Inner echo reflecting solace revived…”

But ultimately the only way could navigate ourselves out of this insanity was by putting our differences aside and reaching out to one another. It was the isolation that was killing us, and only one emotion - love - could pull us out of the deep pit of blackness we had been living in for years now. When Metric decided to make a “pandemic record”, Emily Haines and James Shaw made it clear that they didn’t want to make an album about the pandemic itself. They wanted to make an album about getting OUT of the pandemic. And that’s why there is such a tonal shift in the final minutes of this ten-and-a-half-minute masterpiece. Emily’s voice is like that of an angel of mercy, guiding us out of these “Days of Oblivion” (which she will sing about more on the follow-up album “Formentera II”) and into that realm of ACCEPTANCE that we needed to journey through before we would truly be free:

“Whatever you do Either way we’re gonna love you Never mattered Either way we’re gonna love you How many or how much more You’ve been through Come back to yourself from the battle.”

[Edit: Fixing spelling and grammar.]

First off, I may be way off-base here for this entire thing.

I feel that this song can be broken into at least two parts, maybe four. The first one is where it's actually complaining about the current state of affairs of the internet, and recognizing how that simply doesn't work, even though the majority of people simply accept it, and there are others who don't realize that they shouldn't.

The second part of the song feels like it's referring to "everyone's least favorite uncle" who always comes out of the woodwork at every family gathering. We all love him, but can't stand what he has to say. And by that I mean

"Take something for the pain / Not something to conceal it" maybe he's a drunk, but maybe he's addicted to the media?

"Take this for the heartache / Not some cure to negate it" similar, but whatever he is using to help is a placebo

Whatever you do, either way we're gonna love you No matter how far "out there" you stray, we're still you're family and will take care of you!

Never mattered, either way we're gonna love you We would have done this anyway, alzheimers, Parkinson's, or otherwise.

Whatever you do, either way we're gonna love you Same as above, but growing more desperate to help with the tempo Never mattered, how many or how much more you've been through Come back to yourself from the battle Hoping they can actually recognize that they have fallen/been brainwashed/whatever and recover