Ben Rankin is an Australian singer-songwriter whose work sits in the emotionally direct end of the indie and alternative spectrum, built on confessional lyricism, restrained production, and a focus on narrative over flash. His catalog has consistently leaned into themes of memory, grief, identity, and personal growth, with songs that feel written from lived experience rather than abstract concept. Rankin’s strength has always been his ability to let space do the talking; instead of over-arranging, he allows melodies and words to carry the emotional weight. In Memoriam arrives as his most fully realized statement to date, a record that reflects on loss, self-reconstruction, and the quiet aftermath of change.
Track by Track
Voices
The album opens in a tense and introspective place, immediately establishing the internal dialogue that drives the record. The title suggests memory and conscience colliding, and the atmosphere feels like stepping into someone’s head mid-thought. It works as a tone-setter, introducing the emotional weight without giving everything away.
Save Your Tears
This track shifts into something more outwardly vulnerable. It reads as a conversation, possibly with another person but just as likely with the self. The phrasing implies restraint and protection, and it feels like the moment where grief is acknowledged but not fully released.
Deathwish
There is a sharpness to this title that suggests one of the darker emotional points on the album. It brings tension into the sequence and hints at self-destructive thought patterns, making it an important early turning point in the narrative arc.
Do You Believe In an Afterlife?
This is the first truly existential moment on the record. The question in the title opens the album outward into something philosophical, moving the focus from personal pain to the bigger unknown. It feels like a pause in time where the listener is asked to sit with the same uncertainty as the writer.
A Societal Collapse
Here the scope widens dramatically. The internal becomes external, and the personal grief starts to mirror the state of the world. It gives the album a broader context and prevents it from feeling isolated inside one person’s story.
Parasite
This track title suggests emotional dependency, guilt, or a relationship that has turned toxic. It reads like one of the most confrontational moments on the record, where blame and self-awareness exist in the same breath.
Rewind (feat. Machine on a Break)
The inclusion of a feature at this point in the album feels intentional. It represents reflection and the desire to revisit the past, and the collaboration brings a new perspective into what has largely been an internal monologue.
With You
This is one of the most direct and human titles on the record. After several heavy conceptual moments, it lands as something grounded and intimate. It feels like connection after isolation.
Crown of Thorns
The imagery here is heavy and symbolic, suggesting suffering, sacrifice, and the weight of responsibility. It reads like one of the emotional peaks of the album, where pain is no longer hidden behind metaphor.
None In a Million
This title introduces a sense of rarity and personal value. It feels like the beginning of the recovery phase, where the narrative shifts from loss toward self-recognition.
Breathing Space
Exactly where the listener needs it. After the intensity of the previous tracks, this functions as a moment of release and reflection. It suggests distance from the chaos and the ability to finally process what has happened.
I’m Not Myself
The closer brings the album back to identity, but now with the full journey behind it. It does not feel like a collapse; it feels like an honest acknowledgment that change has taken place and that the person at the end of the record is not the same one who began it.
Final Thoughts
In Memoriam is structured like a psychological timeline. It begins in confusion and internal noise, moves through grief, confrontation, and existential questioning, and ends in quiet self-awareness. The tracklist alone shows careful pacing, with each title representing a clear emotional step rather than a random collection of songs. Ben Rankin’s strength is his restraint; nothing here suggests excess for the sake of drama. Instead, the album reads as a deeply personal document about what it means to survive loss and come out altered on the other side. It is the kind of record that rewards listeners who pay attention to sequence and theme, because every placement feels deliberate.
What did you think of the new album? Stay tuned to MusicOnTheRox.com for all your music news and reviews.
