Heartbeats and Burning Trees: Finding Love at the End of the World
Music Monday 3: Notes on music, love, and the end of everything
I don’t remember the first time I heard José González's haunting cover of "Heartbeats." I’m sure it was a result of the Spotify algorithm sending it my way because it seemed similar to other songs I’d been drawn to. And I’m embarrassed to admit, that until the writing of this post, I didn’t even know it was a cover by Swedish electronic music duo the Knife. But, because the universe delivers us what we need, I was served José González's stripped-down acoustic arrangement which captured the raw emotional atmosphere I was trying to create in my novel — that delicate balance between devastation and intimacy. Had I heard the original version, I would have thought it was fun (what is it about Swedish elecronica?) but it would not have stirred me to the same depths as the cover.
Like González's interpretation of this song, I wanted my apocalyptic story to focus on the quiet moments rather than the spectacle. His lone classical guitar creates a vulnerability that I sought to mirror in my characters' final hours, especially in certain characters that found deep connection as they faced the end together.
The song speaks of "one night" of perfect clarity and connection, which resonates deeply with how I crafted those last precious moments before the world burns. Now, when I read scenes I wrote of my characters finding each other — or losing each other — in their final hours, I think of González singing about "different heartbeats" sharing one night. It’s a perfect fit.
The song's themes of divine intervention (or lack thereof) parallel my exploration of faith and destiny throughout the book. When González sings that "hands from above" wouldn't be good enough, it reminds me of my characters' struggles with Rajiv's prophecies and their own beliefs about salvation.
The melancholic yet hopeful tone of this acoustic version perfectly captures what I was aiming for in my novel — that bittersweet quality of finding love or connection even as everything falls apart. I wanted my characters to face their fate with the same kind of quiet dignity that González brings to his performance.
Most importantly, both the song and my novel suggest that sometimes human connection must be enough. Even in the face of apocalyptic destruction, I wanted to tell a story that wasn't about the spectacular end of things, but about the intimate moments between people that give meaning to our final hours.
It's these parallel themes of love, loss, and human connection that make "Heartbeats" feel like it should be part of my novel's soundtrack — a gentle reminder that even in our darkest moments, there's beauty to be found in how we reach for each other.
