It’s Awards Season
It’s been almost four weeks since Bon Iver released their newest EP, Sable, and I haven’t stopped listening to it since. From the title, you can probably guess which song has become my number one favorite. Just seeing the title, I also had a feeling it would be a song that would stay with me — touching my heart, soul, and life.
There’s something magical about it (to be fair, every Bon Iver song has its own magic). But with “Awards Season,” I can’t quite put it into words — it’s a song that has truly changed me. The song’s simple yet striking use of metal singing bowls and layered sounds offers a personal look into Vernon’s thoughts. He touches on his struggles and healing journey, capturing a powerful mix of sadness and acceptance.
“Awards Season” has even taken the place of my longtime favorite Bon Iver song, “re: Stacks.” While “re: Stacks” has that intimate, stripped-down, acoustic feel, there’s something in “Awards Season” that reaches me on an even deeper level.
Oh, how everything can change
In such a small time frame
You can be remade
You can live again
What was pain now’s gain
A new path gets laid
And you know what is great
Nothing stays the same
I love the idea that nothing stays the same. The thought that life is always changing — that we can be remade and find ways to live again — is so powerful. It’s comforting to think that pain can eventually turn into growth, creating new paths and fresh beginnings. I don’t like pain, either, but I know that once I pass through the storm, I’m not the same person I was when I first entered it. Nothing stays the same.
Awards are usually celebrated as symbols of something good — achievements that deserve recognition for their quality or success. But I believe our pain and struggles deserve acknowledgment too. People only see success when there’s a visible outcome. Who really notices the effort we put in? If we don’t reach our goals, it’s seen as if we simply didn’t fight hard enough.
Well, how could I ever thank you?
I’d been received
But I’m a sable
And honey, us the fable
You said that you were unable
That it’s not reprieved
When he calls himself a “sable,” it feels like he’s acknowledging the complexity within himself — layers of darkness and a sadness that’s not easily understood. The line “us the fable” speaks to a relationship that felt almost like it was meant to be, yet it couldn’t last, no matter how much beauty or significance it held. “It’s not reprieved” adds a sense of finality, accepting that some things, no matter how cherished, can’t be changed or saved.
In a world where we often see things in black and white, there’s always a grey area — a space filled with forgotten darkness, something we often ignore while trying to force everything into categories. We’re complex, fragile beings, and it doesn’t take much to bring us into that shadowed “grey” where darkness resides. No matter how beautiful a person or a human relationship is, there’s always a space for disappointment, despair, and the parts of ourselves we don’t often share. It’s this haunting contrast that makes the song feel both comforting and heartbreaking.
Lastly, my favorite opening lyrics:
I can handle
Way more than I can handle
So I keep reaching for the handle
To flood my heart
And the Spaniard
In song that I have pandered to
Is always handing me the anvil
Saying, “That’s for you”
I often hear people say things like, “There are others who are struggling too, but they stay quiet.” Well, first, struggle isn’t a competition or comparison. If you feel like you’re carrying too much and can’t handle any more, it’s okay to acknowledge that. I think when people say things like that, they unintentionally silence those who are quietly struggling, and that’s what keeps the cycle of struggle going.
It’s like the lyrics, “I can handle way more than I can handle,” but they’re still reaching for that “handle” despite the overwhelming weight. It’s as if they’re trying to carry everything, even when it becomes too much. The anvil that’s handed to them represents an unfair burden, something heavy they didn’t ask for but are expected to bear. And that’s a lot like how we sometimes feel when we’re struggling in silence, trying to hold on even though it’s hard to keep going.
I truly hope this album receives the recognition it deserves — whether or not it wins a Grammy, that’s not what matters most. What matters most to me is that this album, with its lyrics, its meaning, and the struggle Justin Vernon is trying to convey, reaches many people. I hope it becomes that album that feels like a comforting pat on everyone’s head, just like it feels to me.
So, thank you for creating this beautiful album! :) ❤
