If you are familiar with either my journals or my music, you already know that I'm grappling with chronic health issues.
This summer I had to undergo two relatively minor but still significant heart surgeries and, while I'm slowly resuming my regular activities, the road to a complete healing still seems long. Some weeks ago, a friend suggested documenting the experience of recovering. This got me started on a path of musical musings on heartbreaks and healing through the lenses of my Dungeon Synth journey.
While I've been aware of a couple of Dungeon Synth artists for quite some time, I've started consciously diving deeper into this genre in Spring 2022. One of the features that attracted me towards this music was an ineffable, heartbreaking quality, that goes hand in hand with the "nostalgia for a past that never was" but at the same time cannot be entirely reduced to it. Not all of the Dungeon Synth I consider to be great makes me feel like that, but many of the artists I've talked about have a handful of songs that I find metaphorically heartbreaking, often for different reasons. I'll try to share some of such songs and put into words the effect they have on me, giving space mostly to artists I haven't discussed yet in my journals. The journal format and time constraints forced me to make a small selection, but it's representative enough of my inner landscape of heartbreak.
The breaking of a heart could start from a number of places, but the best beginning for my story is this incredible offering by Carnifexian. Age of Spiked Mace has a perfect mix of ingredients that etched the album in my heart right from the very first notes. Terrific music that stands out immediately, strong compositions that can be enjoyed both intellectually and at a visceral level, and an immersive low-fantasy setting evoked by the song titles and the incredible cover art. Every time I hear this album I feel torn apart either by the titular Spiked Mace or by the massive axe that graces the Carnifexian logo. The fact that this artist has vanished after releasing Age of Spiked Mace and two more singles makes the existing music even more precious - and more heartbreaking.
There's also another layer to the story. In theory, Carnifexian's music should not be too hard to imitate, but so far I haven't come across anything similar to it. I have tried to convey a pale reflection of my feelings for his music in a song of my own, but the difference is night and day.
Carnifexian leads me straight into a path of Dungeon Synth Chanson de Geste (or perhaps songs of *failed* heroic deeds) that add a good helping of magic to the feelings evoked by Carnifexian.
At a first glance, Lost in Mystic Woods and Cursed Hollows shares the grittiness of Carnifexian's music, but the second movement of the song takes us in new and uncharted territory, full of magic (but we are not the ones who wield it!) and peril. The thematic and musical shift occurring in the song is almost archetypal, and it works well on so many levels. We are leaving the land of mere matter, where heroes can prevail by the strength of their arms. The new world we entered is just behind a dense thicket, but it might as well be on another world, another time...
That's why I segued Stormkeep's music with Fata Morgana: we're still powerless in a realm full of bewitching magic, but Fata Morgana offers us a way forward and, in a sense, a safe journey into the unknown. This album also introduced me to the wonders of repetitive and yet evolving soundscapes, that in a genre such as Dungeon Synth help immersion instead of boring the listeners.
The Herbalists also evoke feelings of being immersed in a world that's way bigger and more dangerous than we expected, but everything is infused in a child-like perspective that takes away the ultimate danger from the narrative. And yet, the improvised music, gritty synth sounds, and terrific sense of narration are so immersive that one can't help but gear up for adventure - with tree branches as swords and fallen leaves as magic ingredients - knowing that retreat to a safe haven is always possible if the challenges are too hard to overcome.
Speaking of another world and another time, I finally have a perfect place to mention another artist that is dear to my heart.
It's peculiar that, in so many journals, I've only spoken a little about Erang. I justify myself by arguing that Erang has given so many interviews and is a regular contributor of the Dungeon Synth subreddit, but now it's the perfect occasion for me to discuss his music for a little while. I don't know half of his albums half as well as they deserve, but Erang has been a huge influence on me even before I published my debut, Wanderings and Vistas. His love for the craft, evident in everything he does, is unmistakable, and he is a beacon of light in a world that sometimes seems overcome with shadows. His short stories, his drawings, his worldbuilding... everything in his art is inspiring, and indeed it has shaped some of the decisions I made along my music journey.
Every single one of Erang's albums has a special place in someone's heart, I'm sure of it. I've chosen to start with a song from Tome I because, despite it being lost forever to the people of the Land of the Five Seasons, it is full of the heartbreaking innocence of a beginning, that is not diminished by all the amazing music that came after it. To me it's the embodiment of childlike power of imagination, that we all hope is overwhelmingly more powerful than anything else in the life of our little ones.
Then I went with the Seasons pentalogy, both as a tribute to the Land of the Five Seasons, and because of the sheer beauty of Erang's metal-influenced tracks. I love how Erang is able to infuse all kinds of electronic music with the spirit of Dungeon Synth, but sometimes all I need is a double bass, some distorted sounds in the back (I guess Erang here uses a proper guitar, contrarily to yours truly that wouldn't know how to strum a chord on an instrument without keys), an epic choir and a screaming voice on top. (Plus, hey, electronic influences in a metal-oriented track? Sign me up! I wonder whether Desolazione Rurale picked up a trick or two from this release).
And finally, I bow to Erang's willingness to get personal with his music. Such openness is so moving and, yes, heartbreaking. We're not all warriors and mages, we're also mired in the dumbest life that, however, can explode into colours and emotions at the flicker of a smile, at the sound of a voice. Papa always brings me to the verge of tears every time I listen to it.
Papa also helps me make an important point on the qualities of heartbreaking music. It needs not all be old school dark and gloomy stench-of-the-crypt music, and I definitely have heard heartbreaking music composed, figuratively speaking, yesterday.
It's not a secret that Lichdom is one of the recent artists I love (and the very first one I started writing about in my journals), and this year he came up with a mindblowing, heartwrenching release that will undoubtedly feature in my 2025 top 10, if not top 3. The Dreaming Court is what my Oneiric releases wish to be when they grow up...
Moth Night is such a terrific release by the artist also known as Moss Knight. Besides being delighted by the pun, the music reminds me of Keys to Oneiria in the best possible ways, while still retaining the unique features that I loved in Moss Knight since Hearthen Tome I.
Finally, if anyone wondered, in my book comfy synth can be heartbreaking as well, probably by design: the longing for a safe haven that never was, or that existed only in the folds of a handful of books, or even just in the mind of one specific reader who dreamed up the daily life in Hobbiton or Lothlorien. It feels that, if only we could meet in such places, in such dreams, we could be reborn when the world was younger...
Comfy synth lies at this liminal space between heartbreak and healing, so it's the perfect pivot for finally talking about the music of healing. I have to admit that, in times of healing and before knowing Dungeon Synth, I listened to little music, and not necessarily the most mellow or soothing. Here's one of my top picks for healing music for the decade 2005-2015.
Now I still need to cocoon in my little bundle of uneasiness, to eventually reemerge with a few more scars but with a few more cosmic horrors
I know I should really talk about the whole The Entombed Wizard, with his incredible opening and wonderful moments, and I promise I will do so as soon as I can. For this journal, let me focus on Healing Alchemy: it was one of the first Dungeon Synth songs I listened to in 2022, and what a song it is! I remember being swept off my feet by the initial orchestration alone: the pad, the sweeping filter in the bass, the bassoon coming in to contrast the electronic sounds... this first moment is followed by such a powerful composition, so rich in timbres, melodic ideas, excellent counterpoints, interlocking melodies, all tied in together by the terrific bass that caught my ear right from the start. And, when one would think that the song in all its soothing majesty is over, one of the most inspired solos of Dungeon Synth takes off and gifts us with 40 more seconds of healing magic. It is clear that this is the work of a scholar, and years later I learned that Umbría is indeed studying the theorbo at the highest levels. Revisiting his music with this information sheds a lot of light on many details... but I'm definitely getting ahead of myself. Just wait for the journal on Umbría ;)
I have already said why and how Moss Knight's approach to spring music soothes me, so forgive me for repeating myself. But I cannot stress enough how healing shouldn't be pretending that everything is okay, but rather acknowledging that things really went south in a dramatic way. This is not the end of the road, though, and one step at a time it's possible to move forward, even if it's not easy - and indeed for me it becomes harder and harder every time. I'm sure this is not the last time I will touch upon this topic...
I have to credit Dungeon Synth for broadening even more my music horizons and for giving me accessible entry points into genres I've always had a hard time with. For a long time I thought that ambient and drone were not for me, but in recent years things have changed. And Grotte de cristal's beautiful releases, with all their quirks and depths, are a great example of healing music I would not have dreamed of only a few years ago. Keep an eye on these albums, as I've been told that tape releases are eventually coming...
In a similar spirit, new age and field recordings were not on the music bingo card I imagined when I started listening to Dungeon Synth. And yet a friend sent his Woodland Meditations while I was in hospital, and I have to admit that this kind of music, together with ambient and drone, has an understated power. The ability to create an inner landscape, even better if a safe and welcoming one, is crucial for thriving even in the hardest circumstances, and all offerings by Woodland Meditation indeed carry the listeners to serene places far away from worldly troubles. Wait, did I just describe the escapism that is so dear to most DS artists and listeners? ^^"
Audible Mending might seem at the antipodes of Healing Alchemy, as it has all the marks of the best naïve music. However, with repeated listens it reveals hidden depths and tremendous skill on Onfang's part. I love their voice in this album, and to me it's the perfect metaphor for leaving all the posturing behind to reconnect with the world around us through childlike exploration and openness. It is a reminder I often need, because my first reaction to trauma is to try and handle it all on my own. Needless to say, this is not the best of ideas, but letting oneself become as small as a child is definitely one of the hardest parts of an adulthood that requires us to be on top of so many tasks, without missing anything. Thank you Onfang for this gem that gives me permission to become small again and helps me emerge from the cocoon even if I'm not yet a healed butterfly.
This last thought brings me back to my personal healing journey. I have to say it is far from over, and I should remember more the line above about abandoning all the posturing. But I'm working on it and music is a big help. And I'm slowly feeling up to writing new ᚼᛁᛆᚱᛐᛆᚿᛋ material as well, which is kind of unexpected given how badly the summer went. I have scrapped an album (the sequel to Sumarið Þegar Hjartað Söng, that will probably live forever as an unmixed mess on one of my hard drives) and postponed indefinitely the release of an album that I eagerly look forward to, that is already composed and in a quite decent state. But I'll drop the pretence that I can still do everything that I planned and with the ideal timeline for hitting obscure anniversaries. Plus, I have a couple of surprises for the coming months. Let things develop at their own pace, because this is just the beginning of the Seasons of Healing.
Group IX,UW No. 25, The Dove, No. 1 (1915), by Hilma af Klint (Sweden, 1862 – 1944)
ᚼᛁᛆᚱᛐᛆᚿᛋ, September 2025