If you know me, you know that I can talk about music for hours without getting a glass of water. Here are some lessons about life, self and the relationship between the two…courtesy of my lyrical inspirations.
1. The Velvet Underground
I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t truly appreciate the Velvet Underground until after Lou Reed passed away. While this band is relatively new to my imaginary repertoire, I’ve gained a lot of insight from their music. Poetic and delicate, they bless listeners with forewarnings and reassurances about the mundane, the lovely and the sad. Probably the biggest thing I’ve taken from the Velvet Underground comes from “After Hours.” The lyrics read:
“If you close the door, the night could last forever
Leave the sunshine out and say hello to never
All the people are dancing and they’re having such fun
I wish it could happen to me
But if you close the door, I’d never have to see the day again!”
While sarcastic and depressive, these lyrics speak to me about the concept of choice. We all inevitably experience being misunderstood and lonely, with a bleak outlook on our situation. At the same time, every day offers us the choice to move in the direction of community and belonging. Even if our efforts result in failure, there is solace in the fact that we can try again tomorrow. Lou Reed reminds us that “closing the door” will make our nights of darkness last forever. While we think that shutting down is an exercise of our power – a choice – it really just makes our sadness loom and grow, our shadow side even larger. Avoidance feels good, but the Velvet Underground says that there’s more.
2. Third Eye Blind
People hear me talk about this band and they immediately sing “Semi-Charmed Life.” Then they proceed to tell me how 90’s I am for this one. What else is new?
I really believe that any heartbroken twenty-something would adore Third Eye Blind if they got past the cringe-worthy hits. It’s hard, I know. Regardless, I want to discuss “Wake for Young Souls,” off their 2003 album Out of the Vein.
“I have your face in a photo in high school when you were alive
But that’s all I have
And I can’t remember who I was myself then and it doesn’t help
Still I looked to you as a friend to tell me who we are now, who we are…”
There’s a story being told of remembering old friends and the way things used to be. He recalls them with a sense of longing and confusion about where the time went, and how these connections have come to pass without explanation. The narrator despairingly yearns for his lost friendships while resolving that it’s just “who we are now.” In the above verse, he even describes basing his identity off of his friends, as he “looks to them” for direction on how to be. While simple, I think these lyrics eloquently describe a phase in life that is nearly taboo for young people. Outgrowing old friends and learning to live without their reassurance is a task we all face in our early adult years, but it’s often difficult to explain. Here, Third Eye Blind provides us with validation. “Wake for Young Souls” is a reminder that this process is normal- it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.
3. Tropidelic
Stop judging me. I love my reggae-pop-rock infusions. I’m sure I just lost all credibility, and I wouldn’t blame you if you stopped reading. Regardless of your feelings on this genre, I am going to keep moving with this. Hear me out, maybe?
If you don’t know Tropidelic, they’re super fun. They bring huge marching bass drums into the audience during their shows, and they occasionally cover Sublime tunes. My hippie-dippy heart sings for this band. “Cali” is a particularly fun song with an unexpectedly insightful first verse:
“It’s lonely at the bottom I don’t often feel as badly
As I do while in pursuit of things I thought would make me happy.”
I didn’t think much of these lines at first, but after singing them repeatedly in the mirror, I have come to realize that they represent something quite personal. For me, they reflect back on where I am in my life. The daily hustle and bustle of graduate school is tedious and tiring. It often makes me feel that life will never improve, that this is all I have left to look forward to. I try to maintain a positive attitude. You know, remind myself that life has more to offer than sitting at a laptop for ten hours a day.
Even though I’m at a hectic (and often monotonous) time in my life, listening to “Cali” empowers me to think back on my younger years. I mindlessly chased a lot of fun and excitement, following wherever the crowd went, not pursuing my passions or thinking creatively. More or less, I felt like a cog in a machine. My life lacked sustainable depth. Years later, I am able to look back on the “pursuit of things I thought would make me happy.” I have come to understand that those things were not fulfilling in any spiritual sense. As I grow, I inevitably encounter loneliness- but while at the bottom, I still don’t feel as badly as I did while chasing nothingness.
4. Death Cab for Cutie
Incredible band. Indescribable band. I adore Death Cab for Cutie. Ben Gibbard sings and evokes something visceral in me. It’s like listening to an old friend. It’s consolation.
The first song I think of is “The Ghosts of Beverly Drive” from their 2015 record Kintsugi. I first heard this song while in a parked car on a rainy day, on my way to see the Foo Fighters in Chicago. It was a special day for me. The one and only time I’d ever see Taylor Hawkins in the flesh. Anyhow…
“The Ghosts of Beverly Drive” is a beautiful song. Simultaneously, it’s an aching, stabbing pain in the heart. It’s a cruel state of feeling lost, physically and emotionally, in a place that you’ve always known:
“I don’t know why I don’t know why,
I return to the scenes of these crimes
Where the hedgerow slowly wind through the ghosts of Beverly Drive,
I don’t know why I don’t know why,
I don’t know what I expect to find
When all the news is secondhand, and everything just goes on as planned…”
These lyrics are ridiculously simple, yet so profound. They give an eerie sense of disconnect, isolation and hopelessness among streets filled with “ghosts” – maybe meaningless faces, maybe literal ghosts. The narrator feels guilty for relentlessly trying to gain desirable results in a world they’re estranged from. They’re searching for meaning in a community that used to mean something. Moving on from it, moving beyond it, is impossible. Stuck in a never-ending cycle of searching, they almost ridicule themselves for feeling this way.
This is not unlike the transitionary phases we ourselves experience. It is important to remember that sometimes, making a change can be difficult. We can try numerous times, but maybe a permanent alteration of our mindset and behavior takes several tries. While it is easy to feel defeated, that is a normal process of adjusting for great experiences on the horizon.
I thank Death Cab for this one especially!