"Some Kind of Purgatory" opens with a bold declaration: "No, I’m not gonna break." But, if you listen closely, there's a hint of uncertainty in Mark Ciani’s voice—like a person desperately trying to convince themselves of something they’re not entirely sure about.
Welcome to the mental tug-of-war of Mark Ciani's latest single, a song that pulls you between chaos and catharsis, darkness and light, uncertainty and determination. It’s a wild ride, and we’re all invited.
From the get-go, Ciani doesn’t just stand at the edge of a cliff—he dances dangerously close to it. This track could easily be a battle cry, but it's one peppered with dark humor, vivid imagery, and the kind of storytelling that draws you in like a page-turner.
The lyrics could make you laugh as much as they make you gasp, as Ciani has always been an expert at mixing the urgent with the absurd, and "Some Kind of Purgatory" is no exception. It's about being stuck in a liminal space, but it’s the kind of purgatory you want to get stuck in—if only because the journey is so captivating.
Ciani has built a reputation for delivering raw emotionality with the sort of rock sensibility that makes you want to throw your hands in the air and sing along. Fans of his previous albums like King of Death and Sad Robot will instantly recognize his signature ability to turn even the most chaotic moments into something strangely catchy.
It’s like being trapped in a fever dream where every verse brings you closer to the edge, but then—bam!—the chorus hits, and it's pure, unadulterated singalong joy. The contrast between the song's tense verses and euphoric choruses is where the magic lies.
Ciani is a master of this duality, and the production by Grammy-winning Fernando Lodeiro takes it to new heights. A rubbery bass, pulsating synths, and shivering, infectious beats paint the perfect backdrop for a song that teeters on the brink of breakdown only to reassemble itself with unstoppable energy.
And then there's the lyric video. Directed by Mike Kundrath, it’s a visual experience that mirrors the song's emotional landscape. Frayed ropes, glitching televisions, and the eerie glow of cell phones flicker by in a haze of melancholic beauty. But amidst the haze, there’s a hopeful push towards freedom, symbolized by flocks of birds soaring into a sky that’s not entirely clear—clouds obscure the horizon, reminding us that even when we feel like we’re making progress, the road to resolution is still far off.
"Some Kind of Purgatory" is as ambitious as it is thrilling. The song is not just about a character's internal struggle—it's about the joy of experiencing that struggle, of embracing the instability while chasing the moment of release. And as you bellow the chorus along with Ciani, you’ll find yourself not just listening to a song but living it. It’s the kind of track that dares you to move, feel, and break free—even if just for a few minutes.
If there’s one thing Mark Ciani excels at, it’s turning emotional chaos into a danceable, singable, unforgettable anthem. "Some Kind of Purgatory" may leave you breathless, but at least you’ll be smiling through the wild ride. And maybe—just maybe—you’ll find a little bit of clarity along the way.
In "Some Kind of Purgatory," your lyrics reflect a deep emotional struggle but also a sense of humor and irony. How do you balance these contrasting elements in your songwriting, and what do they reveal about the narrator’s state of mind?
I wish I could claim that this was a deliberate choice, but it usually is not and wasn't in the case of "Some Kind of Purgatory." In many ways, it's just reflective of my own personal disposition to find humor in the darker parts of the human experience. Let's call it a coping mechanism. But I will claim credit for this intention: I try to write characters in a way that feels authentic to me. That means that the ending of a relationship, in the case of "Some Kind of Purgatory," can be painful.
At the same time, there are going to be the mundane moments that are prevalent in life at any time, but especially in depressive stages -- playing video games, falling asleep with movies playing, embarrassing drunken dances. Those moments are funny and serve to make the song a little lighter. They also make the narrator more three-dimensional, and that part is intentional.
I think the emotional core rings truer because of those funny details. With that said, I don't think the narrator in "Some Kind of Purgatory" is in a state to appreciate the humor; that person is just going through it.
The production on this track, with its rubbery bass, shuddering beats, and experimental arrangement, really complements the emotional instability of the song. Can you talk about your collaboration with Fernando Lodeiro and how his production choices helped bring the song to life?
Fernando is incredible. I've worked with him on eight full-length albums now, and he is a great friend and an excellent collaborator. As a general matter, and in the case of "Some Kind of Purgatory", I come into sessions with the general outline for an arrangement and I will talk to the other performers about parts.
Once Fernando hears the band play my idea, his contributions come to the fore. He colors the edges of my paintings if you will. For "Some Kind of Purgatory," he worked with Grant Zubritsky (the bassist) and Kirk Schoenherr (the guitarist) to get the right tones. He suggested I look to replace certain synth tones in the outro. He made helpful changes to the organ part of the bridge.
When I performed the vocal for the song, Fernando was guiding each take, telling me what was working and what was not. He also is just an excellent second voice -- he encourages my predilection for oddball arrangements but will rein me in when I go too far. It helps that we have worked together for ten years. He trusts my songwriting and vision, and I trust him to make creative choices to mess with my songs, both as a co-producer and engineer.
Your music has always been known for its vivid storytelling, and "Some Kind of Purgatory" is no exception. How do you approach character development in your songs, and what’s the key to making these characters feel so real and engaging to your listeners?
Thank you so much! I hope that's true. One of my songwriting principles is that the narrator should not be a good or bad person. There has to be room for complexity and nuance. That's true even in confessional songs that are about my real-life experiences. I try to make characters that are empathetic, but to do that, I might present a person with a noble cause but questionable means to achieve it. Or, I might create a mean-spirited or selfish narrator that is pitiful or pathetic in a relatable way. I get the sense that fumbling and failing, disappointment and heartbreak--losing--is a way of life for most of us.
Maybe we design our own self-destruction, or maybe fate and circumstance fall upon us. But at the end of the day, we find little victories, joy, and shared experiences. We struggle to find these ways to deal with it all. My characters are all engaging in that struggle. That engagement can be funny or serious, healthy or unhealthy, cruel or uncruel. From that perspective, as a songwriter, I'm left with a lot of creative space to assign these characters their own unique personas. Having said all of that intensely depressing stuff, it's a lot of fun to creatively engage with this heavy subject matter, and I'm glad you appreciate it!
The lyric video for "Some Kind of Purgatory" uses powerful imagery like frayed ropes and flickering televisions. How involved were you in the visual concept, and what do these visuals represent in relation to the song’s themes of limbo and seeking resolution?
I have to credit Mike Kundrath, who directed the video. He selected the images for the video, but I did have input into the direction. I did not want a literal representation of the lyrics, and I think Mike took that to heart. I think the video succeeds in capturing the unsettling undertone of the song. The chaotic "at the end of my rope" feeling of the song comes through in the video. That was the intention, anyway.
You’ve built a reputation for exploring darker, more introspective themes in your music, as seen in albums like King of Death and Sad Robot. How do you find inspiration for these deeper emotional themes, and do you think your music has evolved in how it tackles these concepts over time?
I guess it goes back to what I was saying earlier. The core human experience seems to be a struggle to find peace and comfort. As a songwriter, I suppose I'm fixated on the subject. But I do shift my focus from album to album.
I wrote King of Death in the middle of the Covid lockdown while going through a very difficult break-up, so that album has a lot of confessional and therapeutic songwriting. On Sad Robot, I focused on the ways we act as martyrs in the name of love: the sacrifices we make for the things and people we care about and the toll that can take on us.
On The Catacombs, the album where "Some Kind of Purgatory" will appear, I tried to address how fragile a comfortable life can be and the many ways it can be disrupted. And I'm writing new work now that adopts a more positive perspective. I'm currently exploring the need for community and connection to get through the difficulties of life.
So, I think you're right that I write about these darker subject matters, but I purposefully explore different aspects of those subject matters from album to album. One day, I promise you that I'll get off this ride and write a party anthem. Just not today.