Amazon has a lot to answer for. Yes, that Amazon.
You see, sometime back in the mid noughties (circa 05), I started using Amazon to purchase new music. Back then, it was a godsend; considerably cheaper than the high street shops, with everything and anything I could possibly want obtainable with a few clicks.
Then Amazon became like that stereotypical, villainous "drug pusher" they warn you about when you're a kid. You know, the ones that entice you with a few cheap and easy samples to get you going, then once you're hooked, they keep finding new ways of reeling you in. And so, after buying a few CDs from Amazon, it would start throwing recommendations my way. I'd click on the ones I found interesting, read the blurbs and customer reviews, and if I liked the sound of them, I'd take that blind leap of faith and hit the 'Buy' button; and with such cheap prices, it seemed rude not to.
I discovered many fantastic albums that way: Efterklang's 'Tripper' and '...And the Glass Handed Kites' by Mew (the album that got me into them, in fact), to name two notable examples, and then of course there is this; the unassuming cover and nonsensical band name (what the hell is a 'devic'?) were enough to intrigue me enough to want to find out more, and specifically why Amazon thought this might be something I'd like.
'Push the Heart' dropped through my letterbox on a grey, drizzly weekday. It came just before I left for work that morning, so I grabbed the CD and played it on the way into work. Don't believe what they tell you about first impressions; they don't always last. As such, I can't remember much about the first time I played this album as it drifted in one ear and out the other. It's not that I didn't like it, it just wasn't what I was in the mood for hearing at that point in time, so I didn't play it again for a while.
A year later, sometime in the summer, I decided to revisit the album. I'd play it on balmy summer evenings whilst reading, and its languid melancholia somehow made sense in that context, (more so than that rainy weekday). Hearing it brings me back to those moments, and the things that occupied my mind then, in particular, reading the phenomenal 'House of Leaves' (as I was), and the crush I had on an old friend from school I'd recently started seeing again after many years (nothing came of it which, in hindsight was for the best).
However, all of these nebulous triflings pale when compared to the music. There's nothing groundbreaking about this album at all; with PTH you have a collection of inoffensive, yet well written and accessible songs. However, what compels is the emotional gravity those songs possess, imbuing them with far more vitality than first seems apparent. It's a heady concoction of lilting choruses, beautifully haunting melodies and bittersweet lyrics. Each song seems like the musical embodiment of a person, and it feels like you have somehow possessed their being and can anticipate everything they're feeling, as captured in the mood and tone of the music. I can think of few albums that have ever made me feel this way before, which is why this has stayed with me so much.
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