By Helen Howard

The summer before starting high school, I unexpectedly (but perhaps inevitably) experienced the first moment in which I was struck by the concept of mortality. There was no single event that sparked this lamentation, but it became something that I pondered sporadically, even if only for brief, fleeting moments. The remembrance of death wasn’t constant or unbearable, and I could shake it off most of the time, but sometimes it would creep back into my subconscious when I felt out of body or realized how large the world was. In some ways, it felt sort of like an ego death. These thoughts reared their head when I lost control of my bike’s speed while riding downhill, when I was reminded my mom was getting older, or when I remembered religious doctrine from the private Christian school I had recently left. The only time I welcomed or felt comforted by this was when I listened to music.

Around this time, I discovered Sufjan Stevens on my beloved Tumblr. This was during the rollout for Carrie & Lowell, which has gone on to become a cult-classic in the independent music zeitgeist, more so than I ever could have anticipated when I was 14. My dive into Sufjan’s discography led to a crossroads in my understanding of mortality. For the first time, I was listening to music that directly showcased the sadness that surrounds the loss of a loved one while simultaneously leaving me with a feeling of neutrality toward the looming presence of death, of which I now had a heightened awareness. Death is unavoidable and its inevitability is something we subconsciously accept through the act of living. Understanding life’s cyclical nature is something songs like “Should Have Known Better” and “Fourth of July” helped me to do, even if they made me cry in the same breath.

In time, I found the Christmas portion of Sufjan’s discography to have the same effect on me, and I remember marveling at the scale of it. Listening through all 100 songs takes time and intention, but the sentimental melancholy of this body of Christmas work makes it a worthwhile venture when you feel called to make a dent in it. I stumbled upon “Even the Earth Will Perish and the Universe Give Way” after deciding I wanted to make some progress through the holiday anthologies during this initial discography dive in 2015. To this day, I don’t think there’s another song quite like it.

The piece itself is a two-minute instrumental that serves as the final song on the second disc of the Silver & Gold collection. It begins with the slow build of an orchestra, low hums from reeded instruments setting the scene, while short piano arpeggios rise to the forefront of the mix. At times, the piano is in the center of the song when the notes are high, but as the riff shifts, these piano notes blend with the woodwinds. The ever-changing notes sound like snowfall or maybe as if the sky is falling and the ceiling is caving in. It’s like an ending is impending, but its presence is welcomed, or at least accepted.

As the song continues, dissonance builds — its title aptly chosen, as it does sound like the universe is giving way. As a teenager, the ambiguity of this soundscape allowed “Even the Earth Will Perish and the Universe Give Way” to mold itself to the heightened emotions I was experiencing. This song is one I revisit when I crave the short burst of the catharsis it provides. It soundtracked my ponderances on mortality, moments guided purely by a pit in my stomach and grave disappointments.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been able to grapple with the idea of mortality more rationally than I did ten years ago, but I still seek comfort in the music I absorbed at that time. I look forward to the moments where I suddenly remember how striking “Even The Earth Will Perish” is. Its malleability and ability to apply to other facets in life make me forget it’s a Christmas song at times. And don’t the best Christmas songs transcend the holidays anyway?

Helen Howard is a radio promoter at Terrorbird Media and a music writer based in Chicago, IL, with bylines in the ugly hug and Tonitruale. She also runs a blog aptly titled helen’s blog. When she’s not listening to music for both work and pleasure, she’s watching movies, spending time with her pet rabbit, Bunny, crafting, or practicing guitar. You can follow her on Instagram @helenhoward_.