A sense of incompletion reigns this week as I sit surrounded by suitcases: I’m in the midst of seemingly never-ending packing, imminently moving out of one rental and into another. Yet sometimes the most perfectly formed songs, those that feel most complete, can grow out of a sense of life’s incompletion, as I discovered listening to Unfinished Sympathy by Massive Attack . I listened to it alongside the record that inspired the song’s name, Unfinished Symphony by Schubert, as his Symphony No 8 is also known – since he never got round to finishing it, for reasons speculated upon (ranging from the song reminding him of his syphilis, to being distracted by inspiration for a different song).
It was the open palm on the cover of Unfinished Sympathy that encouraged me to slip this record on the turntable. First: the band’s name. Massive Attack decided to drop the “Attack” from their name since it was a politically sensitive time with the outbreak of the Gulf War in 1991. Then there’s the hand, with its fingertips lopped off the top of the record. One finger is a different texture to the others, perhaps wrapped in a plaster with frayed edges - bloodseeping throughcloth . It’s a fitting image for a song about pain and recovery, calling to mind thin skin growing thicker.
I remember the song surging through the radio throughout my childhood, and yet rediscovering it in adulthood, its meaning swells and gains depth. As I paused from packing, I watched the Channel 4 documentary The 90s: Ten Years That Changed the World: the song spookily cropped up on that too, described as the definitive “sound of the 1990s”.
Unfinished Sympathy is a song that I rarely finished listening to during the 90s: a favourite on the radio throughout the decade, it was on the first ever mix-tape I ever made aged 11 – and as the songs were recorded from the radio it was full of half-finished tracks, because Ihad a limited budget to replenish my stock of cassettes.
The limit of sympathy is a theme resounding through another of my favourite Massive Attack songs, 1994’s Protection, with beautiful, lucid vocals by Tracey Thorn which call for compassion, asking the “you” the singer addresses to show care for another’s suffering. As I get back to tidying, squashing a life into boxes and bin-liners, cramming the things I have collected into containers, I think of these artists who capture the messy, unfinished edges of lives with precision. Moving house is a chance to focus not only on the big picture but also – going through each and every one of my possessions – the little things too. In the biggest of songs even the tiny moments become charged with enormous significance.
As for Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony, I confess I struggled to finish listening; it took me several goes but I finally managed, and it was worth it.
I blame browsing for a budget turntable of my own for distracting me from Schubert – no rented room will feel now feel complete without one. A friend recommended the Crosley turntables, and any other recommendations are welcome as I continue my search for the turntable of my dreams. I’ve also started scouring record stores for records that I can buy on a budget to build up my own collection.
It’s that tantalising possibility of completion that surge through these songs. In Unfinished Sympathy, continuing is something the singer both fears (there’s a sense of foreboding in those ominous orchestral strings), and also desires – she can’t help but think of “the curiousness of your potential kiss”. It’s that “potential” that’s so captured in the song.
I’m glad I slipped the record out of that palm-printed cover and finally finished listening to those missing parts of the song that I recorded over on my mixtape all those years ago. What I most needed this week was a helping hand and, quite by chance, I got one, if not physically, but those orchestral strings surged through and sapped away some of the fear I’ve been feeling about moving. And so some songs can reach out a helping hand; they might not help with lifting boxes and suitcases but can nevertheless be uplifting, giving us the energy, the strength – just when we want to give up and leave things unfinished – to keep going.
Recommended song of the week: Thanks to one of the commenters from last week who linked to the song Bastard Landlord by the Pogues which has been livening up and sound-tracking my packing.
