Existential dread refers to our deep fear that life is meaningless. The only certain thing is that one day we will die. And we will die alone. This sense of existential dread can be triggered by a range of stressors, many of which are on our minds recently. Climate change can evoke an uncertainty of the future of our planet’s existence. Covid-19 and other possible pandemics that leave us at risk for sickness and death make us ponder our mortality. And political unrest makes us question, even if the world continues to exist and we are healthy in it, whether our sociocultural and political systems will remain intact. But existential dread can also be fomented by more common day-to-day experiences such as mental or physical illness, death of loved ones, romantic breakups, or struggles establishing ourselves professionally. All of these events can make us feel alone – disconnected from our hopes, dreams and the world around us. We wonder whether we truly have the freedom to control our lives and whether we can have a meaningful and fulfilling life in this world. The emotional experience of existential dread can be anything from feeling emptiness to worry to sheer terror.
How do we cope with existential dread? One of the things that makes existential dread so inherently frightening and overwhelming is that it is ultimately non-falsifiable. We can’t prove that we won’t die. We can’t be sure we won’t die alone. We have no guarantee as to the safety of the planet or its political systems. And we never know when there will be a rupture in our physical, mental, social or professional well-being. How can we have control over our lives and our dread when everything feels so uncertain?
There are many potential ways to address existential dread. One is to give into our fear, hide from the world and hope that avoiding life will somehow give us a false sense of control. Or we become dependent on others, desperately afraid of being alone. And while this may in fact prevent some negative events, we wind up consumed with anxiety. Our existential dread just grows as we fear isolation and death even as we attempt to avoid it.
A second way to cope is a “hope I die before I get old” approach. In this case we flout all caution, and “embrace” our fear of death by engaging in risky, dangerous and impulsive behaviors designed to tempt fate, such as excessive drinking, drug use or risky sexual behavior. We may also intentionally not create any permanent social or professional bonds, disregard any need for connection or future-oriented behavior. This approach appears “brave” but in many ways is another version of giving into the terror of existential dread. We feel we can control isolation and death by hurtling ourselves towards those outcomes.
Then there is a third, perhaps most effective way of confronting existential dread by way of a paradox. We must simultaneously accept the inevitability of death and aloneness while building a life that feels grounded with purpose and meaning. By accepting the inevitability of death and the possibility that we may die alone, we learn to habituate to rather than avoid our anxiety. And by building a purposeful life – filled with meaningful connections, productive behavior and enjoyable times, we feel less alone in the world as we connect to ourselves and others.
Perhaps one of the most common places that we turn to cope with existential dread is the arts – particularly music. In our music we often find a direct confrontation and acceptance of themes such as death and isolation. Many of us build our lives in part around our connection to music. This could be simply listening to our favorite artists, going to see live performances, supporting our favorite artists by buying their music and merchandise, contributing to the music industry through blogs, podcasts or promoting shows, or even making our own music. Regardless of how we connect to music, that connection often helps us cope with our existential dread. We feel a little less afraid, a little less alone, and a little more connected to ourselves and the world around us.
One band that has been taking on existential dread for decades is the extreme heavy metal band Cradle of Filth. Cradle of Filth was formed in 1991 by founding member Daniel Lloyd Davey, better known as Dani Filth. In the past thirty years, Cradle of Filth has been an incredibly influential band, paving the way for later forming heavy metal outfits such as Babymetal and Ghost. And now they are taking aim squarely at the concept of existential dread with their new album Existence is Futile (2021) With Blabbermouth calling it a “top notch album … a restless and authentically unsettling affair.”
The concept of Existence is Futile came in part from Filth’s own sense of existential dread from their recent tour. “The concept of the album stemmed from being three years out on the road, touring the entire world. And then naturally, when you tour the entire world, you’re going to be playing big places, big cities, metropolises…,” Filth recalled. “It felt like the world was slowly getting suffocated, that there was just too many people and not enough resources to withstand the total global barrage.”
Filth is no stranger to existential dread. From a very early age, he feels that he was confronted with the concept of death. Filth was born in Hertford, England, which has the distinction of having been the last place where a person was condemned to witchcraft in England. He has felt drawn to Gothic art and architecture, particularly the interplay of life and death within the same works of art. This has been one of the influences that lead Filth to see death as an intricate part of life – something to be embraced and explored rather than feared. He sees these Gothic themes as central to his work in Cradle of Filth. “The Gothic perspective … pervades our works. It’s dark, obviously, naturally. That’s just something that always been associated with always found comfort in. I live in England, I grew up in villages where witches were burned…,” Filth described. “I think, everybody at some point … people think about the grave. They think about their time on Earth … I do think life and death are very, very closely linked. And it’s natural that people will start thinking about their own existence.”
Filth’s personal sense of existential dread tends to focus less on fear of dying per se, and more on having a meaningless life – one in which he is locked into a dull, bland existence and not having the freedom to pursue what and who he loves. “People ask me, ‘What’s one of your greatest fears?’ Filth explained. “I often say, ‘That fear of normality, of just having a rudimentary nine to five without any real love. Without the ability to break free of that mold and do what you want to do. Now, having the life that’s preset and pre-governed for you.”
Filth feels that music, film and other art forms give us not only the opportunity to escape from our daily lives, but also a chance to confront our existential dread through themes of fantasy and horror. “It’s very obvious that I’m into the darker side of things,” he described. “I love horror movies, for example. And it’s a fine line that people dread, isn’t it? Because you want to be scared – you want the escapism of having that fear …. You naturally don’t want that to happen to you, yourself, or anybody you know. It’s just a fine line you walk.”
The process of entertaining through horror or fantasy does more than just help the individual escape their daily lives and directly confront existential dread. It provides an opportunity for the individual to consider alternative ways of thinking and different approaches to difficult issues. “And when they delve further into it … they got themselves out of ruts,” Filth explained. “So that’s what I mean about escapism – somewhere to go to – but it leads on to other things that are beneficial to everyday life.”
From this perspective, Filth sees the theme of Existence is Futile as not an endpoint or surrender to existential dread, but rather a beginning to consider open-minded and innovative approaches to building our lives and the world around us. “Existence is Futile — I mean, you can’t get more negative than that. It’s like the ultimate negative statement. But in actual fact, I look at as if well, if existence is truly futile, there’s no overarching great religious plan, there’s no Pearly Gates, there’s no netherworld where everybody lives in perfect harmony…,” Filth said. “So it has a positive message … basically saying, ‘Yeah, okay, so let’s look at life.’”
