Once upon a time, I was a naive high school chick that prided myself in being cool, completely un-catty and *gasp*, "one of the guys." I find this to be 100% embarrassing now.
I know this isn't a unique experience, but my point is that it's one that I have thankfully outgrown. Embracing Girl Power in every facet of my life has been one of the most joyful and enlightening choices that I have made.
I still enjoy the white-guy melancholy of Radiohead, and will always love the wonky, pre-2008 Kings of Leon, however, there is something about listening to other women in their mid-twenties & early-thirties emote that completely soothes my soul. It's like being in a real life babysitters club, but there are no children or babies, and there is a lot of venting.
Lady Lamb, Lydia Loveless, Angel Olsen, Lianne La Havas, Carla Morrison, Courtney Barnett-I could go on and on, but these are some artists that have really shaped my twenties. I've spent a good deal of the past few years listening to these women, and although their sounds and influences are ranging, they share such an intimate, conversational quality to what they produce. I don't mean intimate to mean sexual, or even quiet or private- I mean that they are so honestly and unabashedly themselves. They are experts at telling you their deepest feelings without everything sounding like some hesitant confession. These are women that own their truths and are singing them to the world.
When I finally listened to Mitski's album Puberty 2 last week, that same feeling sucked me in immediately. All 11 tracks (it's too short! I want more!) remind me of the thousands of conversations I've had with myself over the course of my life. As someone who deals with the invisible and overwhelming ties of anxiety and the bouts of depression that they bring (I never know which triggers the other? Am I depressed because I'm anxious? Or am I anxious because I'm depressed? It's the worst chicken-egg conundrum) the tracks Happy and Fireworks in particular feel all too familiar.
I often find myself trying to explain the abstract, nebulous feelings of anxiety to my boyfriend and close friends. Clinical terms are cold and don't match the confusion. I find myself using metaphors and strange adjectives that never quite match. When I'm around company or am in public and the weird veil of anxiety sneaks up, we use a code phrase- "feeding the fish."
Suddenly, in the middle of something fun, or mundane, or routine, it sneaks up and numbs me. I usually say nothing and continue trying to look fine. After about 5 minutes, Chris will notice. He will look at me and say "How's the fish doing?" and I'll reply "I forgot to feed it," and he'll know. Then he holds my hand, and knows my secret, and I power through it until I can get home and cry in the shower. That's one of the few things that helps.
This sums up that feeling in a way that I've never been able to verbalize.
Sorry to get all real today. I'm trying to decide how often it will be healthy for me to listen to this, because I would be lying if I said it didn't make me teary. Here's one that I can listen to without crying.
Because of all this heavy emoting, I spent week 29 listening to Shura's album Nothing's Real. It's revamped 80's synth pop at its finest,and for about 40 minutes I was mindlessly happy.
TLDR: If you want to get in touch with yourself and do some heavy emoting: LISTEN TO MITSKI. If you want to have some mindless fun this weekend, definitely check out Shura. Neither is wrong. Music can't be wrong.
I know this isn't a unique experience, but my point is that it's one that I have thankfully outgrown. Embracing Girl Power in every facet of my life has been one of the most joyful and enlightening choices that I have made.
I still enjoy the white-guy melancholy of Radiohead, and will always love the wonky, pre-2008 Kings of Leon, however, there is something about listening to other women in their mid-twenties & early-thirties emote that completely soothes my soul. It's like being in a real life babysitters club, but there are no children or babies, and there is a lot of venting.
Lady Lamb, Lydia Loveless, Angel Olsen, Lianne La Havas, Carla Morrison, Courtney Barnett-I could go on and on, but these are some artists that have really shaped my twenties. I've spent a good deal of the past few years listening to these women, and although their sounds and influences are ranging, they share such an intimate, conversational quality to what they produce. I don't mean intimate to mean sexual, or even quiet or private- I mean that they are so honestly and unabashedly themselves. They are experts at telling you their deepest feelings without everything sounding like some hesitant confession. These are women that own their truths and are singing them to the world.
When I finally listened to Mitski's album Puberty 2 last week, that same feeling sucked me in immediately. All 11 tracks (it's too short! I want more!) remind me of the thousands of conversations I've had with myself over the course of my life. As someone who deals with the invisible and overwhelming ties of anxiety and the bouts of depression that they bring (I never know which triggers the other? Am I depressed because I'm anxious? Or am I anxious because I'm depressed? It's the worst chicken-egg conundrum) the tracks Happy and Fireworks in particular feel all too familiar.
I often find myself trying to explain the abstract, nebulous feelings of anxiety to my boyfriend and close friends. Clinical terms are cold and don't match the confusion. I find myself using metaphors and strange adjectives that never quite match. When I'm around company or am in public and the weird veil of anxiety sneaks up, we use a code phrase- "feeding the fish."
Suddenly, in the middle of something fun, or mundane, or routine, it sneaks up and numbs me. I usually say nothing and continue trying to look fine. After about 5 minutes, Chris will notice. He will look at me and say "How's the fish doing?" and I'll reply "I forgot to feed it," and he'll know. Then he holds my hand, and knows my secret, and I power through it until I can get home and cry in the shower. That's one of the few things that helps.
This sums up that feeling in a way that I've never been able to verbalize.
One morning this sadness will fossilize
And I will forget how to cry
I'll keep going to work and you won't see a change
Save perhaps a slight gray in my eye
I will go jogging routinely
Calmly and rhythmically run
And when I find that a knife's sticking out of my side
I'll pull it out without questioning why
Sorry to get all real today. I'm trying to decide how often it will be healthy for me to listen to this, because I would be lying if I said it didn't make me teary. Here's one that I can listen to without crying.
Because of all this heavy emoting, I spent week 29 listening to Shura's album Nothing's Real. It's revamped 80's synth pop at its finest,and for about 40 minutes I was mindlessly happy.
TLDR: If you want to get in touch with yourself and do some heavy emoting: LISTEN TO MITSKI. If you want to have some mindless fun this weekend, definitely check out Shura. Neither is wrong. Music can't be wrong.
