Area 11 is one of my favorite bands to date. They’re a rock band from England, but I use the term “rock band” loosely. With tracks like Euphemia and Tokyo House Party, their sound ranges all the way from metal to electronicore to what they’ve described as gaijin rock
(where they’re known to incorporate Japanese phrases in their lyrics, with “gaijin” or “外人” meaning foreigner in Japanese). “Heaven-Piercing Giga Drill” is the third track on the 2011 Blackline EP, and the tenth track on the 2013 album, All the Lights in the Sky.
While the original version of the song is energizingly punchy, this stripped back take gets me every time (I’m admittedly a sucker for all the Area 11 acoustic remasters). I most admire that the song maintains the hypnotic intensity of its original iteration despite replacing the drums and shredding guitars with a standalone piano (unrelated to me playing the song on max volume). A unique beauty lies in the harmonies juxtaposed throughout the song. The vocal layers and frequent crescendos add a sophisticated depth to the track, but the lyrics contribute the raw desperation of the song’s message.
“Heaven-Piercing Giga Drill” strikes me equally as an anthem and a love song. It’s based on the Japanese manga/anime combo Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann, but, as I haven’t read or watched it, my interpretation comes at face value (ear value?). Lines like, “They won’t stop our evolution/Who do you think we are?/Fight against your execution,” evoke an urgent sense of rebellion, juxtaposed a defiant, “Reach out with your fist, let’s demolish the tower.”
Here, I imagine “the tower” is a domineering empire of sorts, like in the plot of a dystopian novel. In this, still, there are also beautiful lines, such as, “Look up, all the lights in the sky are stars,” which paints the image of a beautifully illuminated sky. Further, in a setting of a
grand uprising against tyranny, “the lights” could refer to explosive warfare, in which describing them all as stars equates to the tragic way that even the warfare provides hope. A set of lines in the pre-chorus lays a love song foundation, to me, echoing, “Trust me and we’ll fly, not fall/Tip the balance and risk it all/Together we can go so far.” The chorus later follows with, “We are complete, our souls are fused.” While this potential-romance fuels the track’s message of hope and strength in the rebellion, it also develops the overwhelming sense of desperation and urgency.
My favorite moment in the song comes at 1:37, when the trio of harmonies build atop a forceful piano before fading out. The song is more of an experience and a distraction, rather than something I can play in the background while I work, no matter how many times I listen to it. While it’s far removed from the band’s regular content, the execution is beautiful, and it’s deservedly on repeat in my headphones this week.
Thanks for reading! Check back next Sunday for an analysis of another song.
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