Friday Song: “More”

When ancient concepts like acedia show up in lyrics, you have been Warned!

If my luck holds, I will finally see The Warning live and in-person this weekend. This seems like one of the most important young bands in decades. These three sisters inspired a chapter title in our new book, and are quoted twice in it because the ideas they capture in their songs are current, cogent, and on-point.

  • It’s worth a reminder that the sisters are from Monterrey, Mexico, and English is their second language. I mean, c’mon already . . .

A recent article in of all places Catholic World News dives into their lyrics’ deep observational and philosophical appeal, describing an evolution from their sensational 2022 album Error to their even beefier 2024 album Keep Me Fed:

The progression from Error to Keep Me Fed . . . is not so much a shift as it is a deepening. Where Error confronted the external chaos of a world awash in disinformation and spectacle, Keep Me Fed turns inward to examine the spiritual aftershocks of that collapse. Rather than exploding in anger or settling for a cheap catharsis, the new album dwells in a more difficult space: the dull ache of spiritual exhaustion, the sensation of being unable to summon true desire or joy even amid endless stimulation.

At first glance, the album’s title and imagery might suggest a meditation on hunger or even gluttony, but in reality, it gestures toward something older and more elusive: acedia. This ancient term, almost forgotten in modern moral vocabulary, describes not mere laziness or sloth but a deep weariness with the good, a restless refusal to engage with the demands of one’s own vocation and ultimate end. Keep Me Fed does not describe an appetite for more pleasure, but a desperate plea against an inner emptiness that no quantity of noise or novelty can fill.

Here are other themes from The Warning mentioned in the article. They might sound familiar:

. . . the band captures the way digital abundance corrodes authority and undermines our shared sense of reality, leaving individuals trapped in a vortex of endless information but little understanding.
The lyrics, filled with references to algorithms, control, and performative identity, depict not simply a generation lost in its own illusions but a generation that no longer trusts its own capacity to perceive and act meaningfully.
In a culture where everything is designed to seize attention and accelerate desire, the result is not, as one might expect, an excess of passion or even simple hedonism, but rather a deep, anesthetizing boredom. This is the essence of acedia, as understood by ancient Christian writers: not a mere laziness or inertia but a settled indifference to the good, a refusal to be moved by what ought to stir the heart.
[Acedia] is a state marked not so much by sinning too much as by desiring too little — by the inability or unwillingness to direct oneself toward any final good.

One song singled out for analysis is “More,” which uses a deft arpeggiated descending line to drive the beat while creating feelings of tension, hopelessness, and fear. Wonderful harmonies, terrific lyrics, great playing, and immaculate performance chops bring the song to life — trademarks of The Warning already in 2023, when the youngest sister was not yet 18.

“More” seems to tell about the perverse relationship between audience and celebrity in the world of social media, which starves as it keeps on stuffing.

Enjoy! You have been Warned!


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