kaeurenne

Introduction

Greta Van Fleet’s “Age of Machine” isn’t just a hard rock anthem—it’s a chilling, poetic reflection of our modern digital dependence. From the opening dystopian riff to the mournful chorus, the song transports us into a bleak yet familiar world: a world that looks a lot like our own. This blog post explores the lyrics and soundscapes of the track, peeling back layers of meaning related to technology, dependency, exploitation, and the silent emotional toll of our plugged-in lives.

Intro Riff: Welcome to the Dystopia

The song opens with a haunting riff that immediately evokes images of a dystopian landscape. It feels mechanical, almost industrial—like a decaying city still buzzing with static electricity. From the first note, it sets a tone that hints this isn’t some distant future; this is now. The dystopia is here, hiding in plain sight—within our screens, our feeds, and our silent scrolling.

Verse 1

“Perfect child
Plugged in since the womb
Prophet of the dune
In this electric tomb”

These lines illustrate how deeply embedded technology has become in our lives—from the very beginning. A “perfect child” born into a world already ruled by machines, “plugged in” through the hospital's life support systems, and raised by TVs, tablets, and smartphones. The phrase “electric tomb” isn’t just metaphorical—it’s a grim commentary on how digital overstimulation buries our authentic human experiences from a young age.

Verse 2

“Man has made
An omnipresent force
Heading on a course
For interstellar shores”

Here, “man” symbolizes the creators and drivers of technology—possibly Big Tech or the collective human innovation that's led to our digital ecosystem. This “omnipresent force” could represent social media platforms, cloud systems, or even AI—constantly present, shaping our thoughts and habits. The line “interstellar shores” might reflect the ambition to reach new heights of connectivity and intelligence, but it also implies escapism—fleeing the chaos we’ve created.

Verse 3

“God machine
Malfunctioned as it grew
And the circuits blew
Falling down on you”

Every machine, no matter how “godlike,” is susceptible to failure. As the digital world expands, it also becomes more fragile. When these systems crash or malfunction—whether through outages, social toxicity, or algorithmic bias—they impact us emotionally, socially, even spiritually. This verse portrays the aftermath of over-reliance: burnout, disconnection, and emotional collapse.

Verse 4

“Now you're free
Unplug from the source
No more underscores
Open up the doors”

A moment of liberation. The song calls for a digital detox—an unplugging not just from power sources, but from the societal expectations coded into digital life. “No more underscores” hints at usernames, passwords, or the artificial identities we create online. Opening “the doors” symbolizes a return to reality, nature, or perhaps human connection without a screen between us.

Chorus

“Feeling
Oh god, the feeling
We need some healing
We need some healing
God knows if you feel defeated
You have been cheated
You have retreated”

The emotional core of the song lies in its chorus. It shifts from critique to compassion. It's about the pain caused by virtual interactions—ghosting, digital arguments, long-distance heartache—and how isolating those experiences can be. There's an appeal to a higher power, suggesting that only the individual (and maybe God) knows the extent of that inner wound. The words “cheated” and “retreated” reflect how users often feel tricked and emotionally abandoned in these curated digital worlds.

Guitar Solo: Data is the New Gold

The guitar solo—backed by the music video visuals—adds another layer of symbolism. We see four figures mining a human-like statue, which I interpret as a metaphor for data mining. In today’s world, data is more valuable than gold. Social media platforms mine our behaviors, interests, and identities—not for our benefit, but for advertising revenue. In this economy, we are not the customer. We are the product.

The Final Act: Repeating the Cycle

The song’s conclusion doesn’t offer resolution. Instead, it loops through riffs and dramatic instrumentals, emphasizing the relentless nature of the machine. It’s a sonic representation of the feedback loop we’re caught in—dependent, drained, yet unable to look away.

Final Thoughts

“Age of Machine” is more than a song—it's a mirror. It asks us to examine how plugged-in we are, how much we've allowed the machines to shape our sense of self, and what it might take to feel human again. It’s not just a call to arms; it’s a cry for healing. For anyone who’s ever felt defeated by the algorithm, misunderstood through a screen, or exploited by the very apps they trusted, this song hits home.

Maybe it’s time we all unplug—at least for a while.

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*Written and interpreted by Kalvin Carefour Johnny
Handle: @kaeurenne*

I've been listening to “Age of Machine” by Greta Van Fleet on repeat since its release in the early 2020s. Over time, as I’ve grown and gained new perspectives, my interpretation of the song has evolved too—layer by layer. This article represents a personal culmination of that ongoing reflection.

Special thanks to ChatGPT for assisting in compiling and polishing this blog entry. Using AI allowed me to focus more on shaping my message and delivering meaningful content more efficiently.