I have always been big on covers. I suppose this love derivates from the years I spent watching the French editions of American Idol and Fame Academy. Even now that these programmes are not as popular as they used to be, my love of artists putting their personal twist on another artist's song has remained, strong as ever, and it is in no way surprising that many of my favourite bands have found their way into my musical journey thanks to the way they have performed another singer's number. As my love for alternative music grew deeper, Fame Academy and American Idol have been replaced by the Punk Goes compilation, a series of albums created by Fearless Records, which principle is to have various bands covering songs of different genres (pop, classic rock, crunk) or eras. 

In 2014, Punk Goes 90s, vol 2 was released, and Natalie Imbruglia's iconic Torn was performed by a band I had never heard of before, Hands Like Houses. As I liked the original (should I really use the term original here, as Natalie Imbruglia's version of Torn was a cover as well?), I decided to listen to it, and the rest is history. It didn't take me long to jump headfirst in the Australians' universe, and in the spring of 2014, I fell in love with a beautiful record called Unimagine.

For a reason I wouldn't be able to explain (I suppose some things are beyond words, which is ironic considering I am attempting at putting words on one of my favourite records of all time), from the start, I knew Hands Like Houses were more than just a band, and Unimagine more than a record. It goes beyond the impact they would have on my life. It goes beyond the fact that a mere two weeks after starting to listen to their music, I would go see them in a different country. It goes beyond the fact that I have seen them live fifteen times. It goes beyond the fact that I knew I would love this record forever - so far, three years down the line, I haven't been proven wrong and I still feel the same way when I spin these songs. For a reason I can't put words on, I grasped quite quickly that Hands Like Houses were more than just a band, that they came attached with a universe and with a voice of their own. They aren't a band you just passively listen to, I felt - once again, this is not something I could explain. It's just something I felt.

The first time I listened to Unimagine, I didn't play the first track first. I picked the one song which title I liked the most, which is a fairly stupid decision on my part. Nowadays, I wouldn't ever think of doing it, but back in the day, it seemed like a reasonable way to go about things. This song turned out to be Oceandust, an absolutely gorgeous ballad with a stripped-back melody, which allows you to focus on Trenton Woodley's incredible voice and the power of his words. Everything about Oceandust is delicate and intricate, just like lace. The guitar riff isn't unnecessary loud, isn't loud for the sake of being loud, and even the short gang vocals are soft, almost whispered. What matters most in Oceandust, I've always felt, is the message. 

I couldn't exactly tell where I was in life in 2014, this year is cloudy to say the least. In hindsight, I think I was at a crossroads. I was starting to feel better about myself in general, I was starting to feel the depression retreat, and even if it sounds like a minor event, even my favourite band at the time breaking up probably meant that an era was ending and a new one was starting. Even though I have next to no clue where I was in life three years ago, I know for a fact that Oceandust encapsulates the way I have always felt about my future, and the way I still feel about what comes next every time a new wave of depression comes crashing.

"I don't want to pretend that I'm stronger for it all, I don't want to pretend that the sadness is gone, 'cause I wanna know that I'm steady on my feet. I don't want to pretend so peace will be real to me" 

This is the exact way I feel about most things in life, but very largely about depression (even though, back then, I think I was scared of calling it what it was and still is). Even though I have never been a person who wants to fully detail (online or in real life) the way she feels, I never want to lie about it either, as if lying about it, minimising it, meant that when I started feeling better, it wouldn't be real, it would be yet another trick of my brain. 

Three years later, I believe that I should have listened to Unimagine from the first song to the last, but I think it was important, at the time, to know that I was getting into a band whose words describe the way I feel about Life with a capital L so perfectly, so accurately. 

The second song that stuck with me is The House You Built. I may be a lyrics person, one of those who hold on to words like rocks that stop me from getting lost at sea, but the first reason The House You Built stood out was that, quite simply put, I liked the beat. I liked the intro, the drums that make you want to tap your toes, and I liked how light and catchy it is. Once again, Trenton's vocals made the difference. In Oceandust, I could just sit back and think they were incredible, think his voice capable of hitting high notes. When it comes to The House You Built, the only word that comes to mind is light, airy, as if the voice floated just above the strong melody. Then, of course, as the lyrics person I am through and through, the lyrics person I have always been and will always be, I realised the words hit home. 

I couldn't tell you how I found out this was a song about family, but I did. I know I didn't read about Unimagine for a long time, so it couldn't have been through reading an interview given by the band. It just seemed obvious, at the time, that The House You Built told the story of a family, and, as someone who has never had the picture perfect family or a fairytale upbringing, I unconsciously decided to keep every song about family close to my heart, as if they were a little family of their own, here to say the words my own didn't, or couldn't say. Apart from its topic, the main reason why I love The House You Built so much is because it's an incredibly positive and hopeful song. I know there are many songs about positivity and hope in the world ; just like love, it is one of the most widely discussed topics in music. The House You Built stayed with me because it is a narrative. It has an evolution. You go from "Don't look down even though they're looking down on you" to "Don't look down, because there's no one looking down on you". You go from "he is losing ground" to "she is gaining ground". The song becomes more and more hopeful as it goes, more encouraging. This feeling is only enhanced by the bridge.

"Hey Mr Beaten Down, you found your heart again in the hope you built your house around. You gave your little light, you gave your little light a brand new start". 

I have never quite figured out where the first sentence ended and the second started, where "in the hope you built your house around" fits, and both versions of it work perfectly, in my opinion. I could spend hours trying to explain what these words mean to me, the place they have in my life and in my brain, and I would only fail, or blurt out something cheesier than anything I have ever said before. I will just settle by saying those two sentences, wherever they start and wherever they finish, are some of the most wonderfully written sentences I have ever heard.

If reading about the songwriting process or the topics addressed hadn't been necessary to figure out The House You Built and Oceandust, even just the basic concept behind them, I found myself in need of a little help to understand Developments. The album's opening track quickly became one of my favourites thanks to how unusually catchy it is. I can't picture myself dancing around to it while I am making lunch, yet I can still describe it as catchy, thanks to how present the keyboard is, especially at the beginning. The shift from the delicate notes of the keyboard to the guitars that become stronger and heavier as the song progresses is what makes it unique, and the explosion of the drums after the bridge makes it an ideal, perfect album opener. For a long time, I was content letting Developments be one of these songs that would not attract the Lyrics Person™ in me again (believe me, getting emotionally attached to words becomes a lot to handle, after a while), until I registered one specific sentence in the chorus : "It's darkest before the light". 

As soon as those words had seeped into my brain, they were everything I was looking for and waiting for in the song, they became my favourite part, and when I was struggling with every day life, they became a motto. It's dark right now, but it will be better. You feel like things have never been worse, but it just means that it will get better eventually, because it's darkest before the light. Once again, I could spend hours trying to explain the breath of fresh air this sentence has been, and once again, I would only be cheesy and corny. 

I ended up reading about the meaning behind Developments, and what I found out was extremely interesting.

 "Developments is based around the idea of a photographic darkroom - it takes darkness and careful treatment to develop an image. In the same way I feel like dark times, and the patience and optimism to see them through, are the only way we can retain memories and learn from our experiences. For me it's a justification of difficult times as perspective to better understand and appreciate our present as part of a whole." 

Over the years, the horribly impatient person I have always been had to learn patience, had to learn that good things come to those who know how to wait, had to learn that waiting and the passing of time don't mean wasting your time, had to learn that, just like Rome, happiness and contentment don't build themselves in a day, and they need a lot of nurturing and care, just as much as time. I had to learn that waves of depression and high anxiety would not leave me in the blink of an eye, they would take their time leaving the shore and retreating back into the ocean, I could not wish them away, and impatience was never going to make things better. If anything, being impatient could only make things worse and more frustrating for me. Those were two of the most important lessons I have ever had to learn in life, and having such a stunning, positive song by my side was the icing on the cake. (Or an extended hand to lead the way)

Those three songs, those three universes, those three moments (Oceandust, The House You Built and Developments) are what turned the wonderful, unique album I spent weeks listening to on repeat when I first discovered it into one of my favourite records of all time. They are what cemented it into my life, what transformed what could have been a fleeting phase into something solid. Of course, there are many other reasons why Unimagine is so high on the list of my favourite records. I could try and list many more reasons, and we would still be here tomorrow.
There is the concept behind the music video for A Tale of Outer Suburbia. 

There is Shapeshifters, one of the most poetic love songs I have ever listened to in my entire life, and yet the word "love" is never used once. 

There is how A Fire on a Hill soars. 

There is how I cannot decide of its genre, because putting a genre to it, forcing it into a box would take some of its best aspects away, never mind the genre I would pick. 

There is the way my heart bursts when I hear No Parallels, especially live.

I think, though, that the most incredible thing about this album, what makes it as unique as I believe it is, is that I keep discovering things when I listen to it, I keep noticing details, a string of words here, a connexion between two songs there. It's been three years, and I keep trying to figure many of its different aspects out. It gives me the feeling that I could spend my life digging and still, I would never know everything there is to know about it, which is why I think of it as a world of its own. We will never know everything about the earth, and I will never know everything about Unimagine. I could write about it again in six months', a year's, ten years' time, and the result would be entirely different. This album is more than just a collection of unclassifiable songs, it's a journey. It's a journey every time I listen to it, a collection of feelings and of moments in time, of frames of mind and of words, of places I have been and places where I imagine being, a journey that feels like coming home, a journey that doesn't need a specific or ideal weather, season, place, environment or time of day. It's a journey I will never get tired of making, it's a journey I will never get to the end of, and I am absolutely, entirely content with that.