OPE! Mixtape #10: Everything is connected and nothing works
On crying while seeing 'Asteroid City' and considering that maybe ... this is actually how it all works. And jam bands.
[Editing note: I pretty much wrote all of this week’s newsletter yesterday morning at 3am, for reasons I’ll explain. I’ve since taken a few naps, did some yoga, and feel a bit better. Rereading my word vomiting with fresh eyes, I was tempted to delete it all and just skip this week. I decided against it. I get a little more vulnerable here than maybe I’m used to in this newsletter, yet I like this first-draft energy of me trying to express some things that are literally keeping me up at night. I also know that these nights will come back one day. I think it helps to write about them so that I’m more ready when it happens again. I hope you stick around for the whole thing. Also, due to travels, no newsletter next week or the following. Be back later in July!]
Well, hello there. How are you?
It’s been another crazy week. I’m currently writing these words on Tuesday (yesterday, by the time you read this) at 3 am (literally 3 am) because I have a handful of things keeping me up at night, some exciting and some not so much.
These are the words of a very tired young man who feels old. Frankly, I’ve been asking for it. I tend to place so much value (pressure) on how much time I spend writing or working, work that is, in a sense, always related to somehow allowing me more time to write. I feel the need to always be “on” it. I genuinely feel great about working hard on the things I really care about. It feels good to be good at something that I and a lot of other people value. I also know this intense emphasis on “work” is a slippery slope. My attachment to equating consistent cycles of burnout to “Hey, at least that meant I worked really hard at something” has kept me in the past from addressing how to stop burnout in the first place. I get it. I really do. Still, I get nervous when I’m not working. And in the rare moments when I take a break, I have to make sure I’m relaxing the “right” or most efficient way, as if there’s a “bad” way to relax and that I’m probably doing it wrong.
Fun stuff, right? I know I’m not the only one who goes through this too.
This has been a consistent theme in my many years of therapy: me trying to make peace with the truth that it’s not necessary or wise to be a martyr for no one. To put all this stress and pressure on me to just appease my own ambitions that I feed to myself … and pretend that everyone else wants me to be this way. No one is twisting my arm to do the things that I think I have to do. No one is keeping track of if I’m relaxing the “right” or “wrong” ways. No one is forcing me to write this newsletter. (I want to write this newsletter, by the way.) No one is asking me to work myself into the ground. If anything, I think the people in my life would not notice the difference if I was working less hard. Actually, they might notice that I’m more relaxed and present.
I think I know why these feelings are especially noticeable to me right now, to the point that I’m starting to have a few of these 3 am mornings. Really, I think this groaning is another side effect of being on the full-time job hunt and trying to plan out each day, knowing that every day, I have to make a negotiation: is whatever I’m going to do going to help with the job hunt? Every decision feels like placing a bet on my future self (will this application be the one? Will this interview be the one? Will this informational call be the one?) but at the expense of how I’m feeling today (no, don’t go to the gym or have lunch with your friend; you should be submitting more applications). It’s the feeling of giving up my present self to bet on my future self … and I keep losing. I’m doing all this hard work with a great sense of urgency, and the goal is to be rewarded with … more work. Good lord.
[Editing note: Don’t worry, I already planned for a long nap as soon as I finished this intro. Again, I’ve since slept more.]
I’m oversharing all this about myself this week because:
1) Writing about all this helps a lot, in a way. Y’all, I’m just straight-up burned out, and I know I’m not the only one looking for a new job in a tough job market. The way we frame these emotions - the stories we tell ourselves - has such an impact. This is me trying to catch the frame, so I know how to change it. If you’re like me and are going through a rough patch, know that you’re in my thoughts. Together, we can give aggressive side-eyes to all the people who have jobs telling us that we’ll simply just land another job soon no problem, and then remind ourselves that these people mean well and actually do want to be supportive and that we should be nice to them because no one wants to help Mr. Grumpy Pants. (To everyone who’s been reaching out and recommending me for work or keeping me in mind, even just in silence, for opportunities, you’re amazing and you know it, thank you.)
2) I think all this context is important to keep in mind when I tell you that this week, I finally decided (forced myself) to take a break. I wanted to see a movie. Wes Anderson’s Asteroid City was playing in theatres, and I consider myself more or less a Wes Anderson fan. It was an excuse to leave the house. And so I went.
Later in this newsletter, I’ll dig deeper into Asteroid City. For now, for this intro, I can say this: Holy crap, what a movie. At least, what a (likely flawed and imperfect) movie that I needed to see this week. Judging by a few conversations that I’ve had with other people, it feels like this movie is hitting a particular note with a lot of people in unexpected ways.
Isn’t it strange, how the universe will sometimes actually get back to you when you reach out for mercy or ask for any kind of sign, but the response, of course, is in the way you didn’t and couldn’t expect or plan for? The humbling of it all is probably the point; like the universe saying, “Hey, doofus, look away from your ego so you can see what I’m showing you.” I didn’t expect or plan to cry from watching a movie by a hipster director about a fictionalized American desert town in the ‘50s visited by an alien (not a spoiler) played by Jeff Goldblum (kind of a spoiler but not really). I still cried. Not, like, intense crying - though that would make this newsletter more dramatic if I was depicting all my sobbing - but more of a quiet gut punch. I had a physical reaction that matched the sudden emotions swirling around in my head. How often does that happen?
I don’t know if Asteroid City is a good movie. It did remind me of why I care so much about art in the first place. I remembered why I write in the first place. I think art, in a way, is just people, reaching out. Writing is my way of reaching out - because I know how much I’ve appreciated and needed those who’ve reached out to me.
Say it with me everyone: heartbreak feels good in a place like this.
So that’s what's on my mind as I write these words this week. I’ve included some more uplifting tunes to this week’s mix too, because certain songs will always make me feel a little better. Speaking of words, let’s read some more. Here are some great tunes and links for the week.
LINKS
Now hiring: not you (it’s funny, I swear)
A review of the new Geese album in Pitchfork (I wrote this!)
Billboard announced the launch of several new music charts in partnership with SRMG; the whole package is being called Billboard Arabia
The secret behind the past decade of indie rock: the rubber bridge guitar (here’s a quick video breakdown too)
The Warehouse, the credited birthplace of house music, is now a Chicago landmark
THIS WEEK’S MIXTAPE
Listen to this week’s mix on Spotify.
Charly Bliss - “You Don’t Even Know Me Anymore”
I really like this band and really don’t like this song. I’m warming up to it with each relisten though. I want this band to succeed; selfishly I want this song to pay off in some way, though I know this band doesn’t, like, owe me anything. Has any non-pop singer or rapper ever heard themselves sing in autotune and actually thought, “Wow, I sound great”? I’m still excited for a new album to come out, whenever it may be.
Slowdive - “kisses”
That unfortunate moment when you think, “Wow, this song, which is just OK, reminds me of better bands like Slowdive,” and then you realize that this is the new song by Slowdive. They’ve already made their classics (which I’ve written about for New York Magazine), so they can do whatever they want.
Geese - “Tomorrow’s Crusades”
After I file an album review draft, I tend to feel that I never want to hear that album ever again. I say this about albums I both like and dislike. When I review albums, I tend to go all in and listen on repeat non-stop for as long as I’m aware that I’m on assignment to articulate how this music makes me feel, as both a student of the bands that these artists clearly cherish and mold themselves after and as someone who has ears and a heart and a mind and a soul. Once I’m done, I just feel tired and need a break. I reviewed the new Geese album for Pitchfork this past week. I liked it! I chuckle that my editor allowed me to keep the line “like a horny shaman yelling at the Grand Canyon.” The weird thing, however, is that there’s one particular song on the record, “Tomorrow’s Crusades,” that I actually am enjoying more after the review ran. It’s a pretty song. The strings are lovely. I feel like I’m at some far-off celebration in my mind for some fake memory of something special. I’m glad this song is now in my life.
Goose - “Hungersite” (Live at Radio City Music Hall with Trey Anastasio)
The irony is not lost on me that I reviewed albums by both Geese and Goose for Pitchfork. Music writing: it’s for the birds. The connection is funny because, on this new album, Geese definitely turn into a proggy jam band, and it’s a fun contrast to Goose’s more tasteful and (clearly) Phish-flavored take on jam band music. This Radio City take on “Hungersite” starts out fine but eventually builds into something awesome once Trey gets in the mood. For that less patient, check out Goose’s viral (by jam band standards) set from Peach Fest 2019. Just put on both YouTube videos in the background while you work and enjoy. With that said: This live video looks great.
Dave Matthews Band - “Too Much” (Live at Mile High Music Festival)
Meanwhile Dave is like, “Brady stfu leave my genre alone.”
The Rolling Stones - “Worried About You”
The longtime rock critic's take on the Rolling Stones is that their last “great” album was 1981 Tattoo You. “Great,” in this case, means that this was the last Rolling Stones album that still felt relevant as a new work of art and not just an excuse to go touring. This wasn’t the last enjoyable or even the last good Stones album, but I agree that this is when the Stones politely gave up on being “great.” This is hilarious because most of these songs are outtakes from the previous decade anyway. Still, I can imagine myself being a Stones fan in 1981 and thinking with glee, “Holy crap, they didn’t need to write a song as good as ‘Worried About You.’” “Waiting On A Friend” also may be one of the best closing songs on any Stones album.
Alice Deejay - “Celebrate Our Love”
I’m weirdly fascinated by the genre of “songs on albums that immediately follow smash, career-defining singles that overshadow said songs.” In the case of Deejay’s 2000 album Who Needs Guitars Anyway? (just look at that album cover; early 2000s, what a time!), this is the album that includes “Better Off Alone,” which still holds up quite well. I was listening to “Better Off Alone” on Spotify but didn’t change albums when it was done, and I was taken to “Celebrate Our Love.” I thought, “Huh, I’ve … never heard this song.” I liked it. And it technically was a single that did well; this video, which also has extreme early 2000s energy, has a couple of million views and a healthy amount of streams. Possibly could have been a career-making hit by anyone else other than the same artist who gave us … well, “Better Off Alone.” Another album I think about is New Radicals’s Maybe You’ve Been Brainwashed Too (an album I love dearly, but that’s for a different newsletter) and how “I Hope I Didn’t Just Give Away The Ending” follows “You Get What You Give.” Unlike “Celebrate Our Love,” “I Hope I Didn’t Just Give Away The Ending” is not a great song outside the context of the album.
Liz Phair - “Red Light Fever”
Exile in Guyville celebrated its 30th anniversary this past week. I interviewed Liz a few years ago for New York Magazine and she was great. Exile has transcended all its initial hype and escaped ‘90s Chicago to now be an undebatable and timeless classic. Agreed. So I think the more interesting story is how her infamous self-titled album (yes, that Pitchfork review) also had a special anniversary this past week (20 years) and how that album feels just as relevant and influential as Exile, but in the pop-rock world and the section of the indie-rock world that desperately wants the attention of the pop world. Much of the hatred for her self-titled album was overblown even back in 2003, but it’s nice to see that most people these days have lost the desire to diss an album that never deserved the hate. The singles “Extraordinary” and “Why Can’t I?” are still great. I also think the whole album is worth your time. “Red Light Fever” just feels so well done and reminds me of every episode of The O.C., a show that I pretend to have watched and cared about only because of its soundtrack.
Alice Cooper - “Under My Wheels”
I’ve been exploring a lot of older Alice Cooper albums that I thought I knew well. I’m now realizing that I don’t know these albums too well beyond the hits. After revisiting a lot of albums, 1971’s Killer is my new favorite of his classic ‘70s run. None of these albums are perfect, but it reminds me of R.E.M. in the sense that Alice Cooper (at this point, still technically the band name and not just the guy we all know and love) released a series of A- albums all in a row. It’s the consistency that’s impressive. With a good stereo, I’d argue that “Under My Wheels” does laps around anything off The Rolling Stones’s Exile on Main Street … which didn’t even come out until 1972. Easily one of the most underappreciated of the already adored major American rock stars who helped turn rock ‘n’ roll into just rock.
Third Eye Blind - “Never Let You Go”
Great song, yes, but I’m sharing “Never Let You Go” because of its bridge. I love this bridge. The sneaky way in which the bass skips down the fretboard feels like an example of how vital a good bass line is to a song even if it’s not immediately recognizable. This guitar tone stinks, but within the context of the song, it’s perfect. Also, this music video: the audacity of Stephan Jenkins playing a double-neck guitar! For this Wednesday morning, as we all start our days, I wish you the confidence of Stephan Jenkins playing a double-neck guitar and meaning every single note.
Nancy Whiskey & The Chas McDevitt Skiffle Group - “Freight Train”
So yes, I saw Wes Anderson’s Asteroid City this past week.
I’d consider myself (and still consider myself) a cautious Anderson fan. To a friend, I summed up most Wes Anderson movies as “quirky windows into the eh lives of eh people.“ It’s a snarky line that I think gets at what kept me from being more of a fan. Anderson’s ability to tell a story is untouchable among today’s most popular American directors. I like that he goes out of his way to remind us that we are, indeed, watching a movie and are being told a story. (I know I share a lot of Thomas Flight videos, but it’s worth sharing his video on what makes Wes Anderson Wes Anderson, which includes the emphasis on embracing the artificial necessities of storytelling.) His movies look and feel beautiful. It’s just that most of the characters seem like a drag. You’d never want to share an elevator with most of them. My thought while watching these movies: Why do these terrible people get to live such (literal and metaphorical) colorful lives? And yada yada.
Asteroid City still has Anderson’s usual quirks. It’s high-stakes preciousness for a handful of people. This movie won’t convert anyone who actively hates Anderson. This movie, again, looks like a dream. And the humor will hit hardest with the people who like New Yorker cartoons on LinkedIn.
The difference is the people.
Another way I’d describe Asteroid City: This feels like the first Wes Anderson film to feature adults, not just adult children or stunted adults. I don’t have the film criticism chops to really articulate what makes these characters feel more adult to me. If I had more time, I think I could find some way to express this lack of ironic wit among (most) of the main cast. Maybe I can just relate to how tired everyone looks in this movie. For now, I think I’m picking up on and am attracted to the sense of melancholy in everyone, which feels more real here than in any past Anderson film. I think it’s the way Tom Hanks tells Jason Schwartzman “It’s always the wrong time” and how both of them quickly wince immediately after. (This is the moment when I cried, by the way.) I think it’s Matt Dillon saying “Everything is connected and nothing works” to talk about a broken car but is really talking about something deeper and yet doesn’t get a response from anyone. I think it’s how an alien appears in the desert and all the adults are too numb to think too much about it; the universe unraveling its mysteries to us is just another thing to deal with. I think it’s how the alien in the movie also looks numb, for reasons that have nothing to do with mankind. I think it’s how the alien comes back to the town, and why. I think it’s how at the end (again, not a spoiler), everyone leaves town. Because life marches on.
I realize as I write these words that I might not be selling you on this movie in the ways I intended to when I realized this morning that I had to write about this movie. That’s OK. All I can do is express the heartbreak that I recognize in this movie. Without spoiling more details, the film is pretty much about grief, and how we deal with it, especially with other people. I don’t know if Anderson believes in God, but this feels like the first movie in which Anderson is directly talking to God and asking a potentially unknowable question: Why does this hurt so much? The kick, once again, is that sometimes, the universe — to some people, God, to others, aliens — actually does respond. It’s up to us to allow ourselves to open up to what they, and the people we love and the people who love us, are trying to tell us.
And the soundtrack is just excellent. I can’t stop listening to “Freight Train,” a song that now gives me a lot of strange hope that, even as I write all these words, I don’t want to overthink too much. Maybe I’ll see this movie again and realize that the movie has no message and I’m just projecting my total self onto Anderson’s canvas of a uniquely American sadness. Maybe this movie actually is as good as I feel it to be. Maybe it’ll give you some hope, if you need it. If so, I hope it does.
Everything is connected. Maybe, this is how it all actually works.
And that’s it! Until a future Wednesday in July.
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OPE! logo by Claire Kuang. words and cartoons by yours truly. all typos are intentional.