The 2017 Songs that Got Us Through the Year
Lorenzo Cabello and I chronicle the songs — and artists — from the past twelve months that have provided us with comfort, acceptance, the inspiration for resistance to keep on keeping on, and even a little bit of hope for progress to take into the new year.
ZT: “Bodak Yellow” by Cardi B
“I don’t dance now, I make money moves.” “I’m a boss, you a worker, bitch, I make bloody moves.” And the crowd. Goes. WILD. If there was ever a song that made me believe in progress — both individual advancement and collective, social forwardness — it was Cardi B’s number one hit. This was the year where more and more close-minded people unapologetically expressed their desires for a more repressive and oppressive world. It was the year of Charlottesville. Roy Moore. The shitshow of one of the worst White House administrations in American history. The complicated yet consequential backlash against the #MeToo movement from (often white) (often cis-gender) men who just didn’t (want to) understand.
And it was the year of Cardi B being herself, ever so loudly and PROUDLY. Her brilliance shone brighter than any other star in pop culture (“My pussy feel like a lake / He wanna swim with his face, I’m like, ‘Okay’”), and I can’t help but contribute that superlative to the fact that she has always spoken however she wanted to: with consideration, with compassion, and with utter confidence that doesn’t come from a place of putting other downs, but from understanding how the world works, what others thought her place should be, and how ready she was to subvert those expectations. One of my three favorite words I’ve ever heard spoken to me this year was Cardi B dropping “Yves Saint Laurent” and pretty much being the only person I could think of actually being more than worthy of owning such stuff. A legit working woman with an unmatched professional pace, Cardi B isn’t trying to be the voice of an entire group or generation. She’s become that way because the public has gravitated towards her, and effortlessly so. Fiercely feminine and absolutely assertive, Cardi B knows that the best way to deal with people who try to fuck you over is to simply erase them out of your life, because they’re not worth the time or energy that could be used for building a life for yourself. For one of the best profile interviews of the whole year (and one of the most accessible conversations between a journalist and a celebrity from this damn decade), I urge you to read Cardi B’s cover story for The Fader. Like, right now.
LC: “Don’t Want to Say Good-Bye” by Cut Worms
Okay, I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot, but I have a confession to make about this particular song: I first heard it when Cut Worms opened up for The Growlers at Webster Hall in 2016. I know, I know. This is supposed to be about songs that got us through 2017. But the thing is, Cut Worms (aka Max Clarke) just released his first EP this October. So it counts, okay? Now, then.
“Don’t Want to Say Good-Bye” is a folky, pop-country tune that sounds like it was recorded at Sun Records alongside Elvis and Johnny Cash. I don’t mean only in genre or the musical elements, but in its sound quality. Very lo-fi, the vocals grain against the speakers with slight distortion. I’m a huge fan of lo-fi music, so if these sound like criticisms, I assure you they’re not. It gives a down-to-earth edge to the song, having the already warm chords and guitar flourishes take you straight to the countryside.
Back to those vocals — when it gets to the chorus, and you’ve heard the song enough times to know the lyrics by heart, you’re going to sing out loud: “All alone / Tired of watching you, baby / No one / Little heart’s gonna break it.” You’re going to try to sing all the harmonies at once (I know I do). It’s so damn catchy and sung with so much earnesty, you can’t help but get swept up in the forlorn nature of the song. That’s part and parcel why this song got me through 2017. No, not the harmonies, but the sense of longing that permeates throughout the song mixed with the great replay-value. It’s wistful but not dour; it doesn’t take itself too seriously. “Don’t Want to Say Good-Bye” has the yearning and heartache of classic country tunes that leave even the strongest crying with their whiskeys while also having catchy, poppy elements that keep it light and fun.
2017, on a personal scale, had a fair amount of heartbreak, longing, and change: the end of a long-term relationship, the resulting awkward dates afterwards, moving out and moving back home. I had a difficult time coming to terms with the transient nature of, well, everything. And when you’re feeling down, you want your music to get you, to be sympathetic towards your suffering. To quote another fantastic song by another fantastic artist, Bob Dylan once said “Everything passes, everything changes / Just do what you think you should do.” So, I faced the facts, accepted that things are simply impermanent, and let Cut Worms sing his broken heart out.
P.S. You can catch Cut Worms at Brooklyn Steel on January 20th — and you can see me there, too!
ZT: “Hard Times” by Paramore
“All that I want is to wake up fine / Tell me that I’m alright, that I ain’t gonna die,” begins Hayley Williams on the lead single from Paramore’s 2017 record, After Laughter. Well. I wouldn’t even dare to start counting the amount of times during this whole year (and parts of the latter half of last year) that I pleaded similarly disheartened desires to just about anyone who would listen: to my mom, to my best friend, to my boyfriend, to God Himself. But throughout this peppy pop rock song, there’s beauty in the breakdown. When Williams confesses such lines like, “Gonna make you wonder why you even try” and “And I still don’t know how I even survive,” it isn’t all about her as some sort of victim. It’s her way of reaching out and connecting with the listener who’s just as anxious, just as depressed, just as perpetually down. This track and album are just another mature, open-minded, and open-hearted step for a band I’ve admired since middle school. It’s comforting to have a group like Paramore, through all the brand changes and band member adjustments, continue to blossom in risk-taking ways all while I, too, try to figure my shit out as I keep growing up.
The song’s music, a contrastive complement to the lyrics, is meant to build you up, not necessarily to a point where you can sweep your heartbreak underneath the rug and feign happiness, but more so to a place where you feel strong enough to admit that you need an open ear, a helping hand, someone to be there for you through both the best and the absolute worst of what life has to offer. As much as you want to cry, you also find yourself wanting very much to laugh: Williams’s “oof!” at the end of each chorus proves that she’s self-aware about her hopeless tendencies but not self-indulgent (she’s not a damsel in distress needing to be saved; she just needs a friend). The “oof” is short, sweet, and offers a glimmer of hope for the listener that even hitting rock bottom doesn’t necessarily mean staying down there. You hit rock bottom every now and then — ”oof!” — and then you find your way back up. As you start that familiar upward journey once more, you probably won’t be able to resist the urge to dance, especially with Taylor York’s confident guitar, Zac Farro’s drums hitting an island-inspired beat (reminiscent of old school Vampire Weekend), and those feel-good twenty-two seconds that conclude the song.
LC: “One Another” by Mac DeMarco
Not to be mistaken with “Another One,” this is “One Another,” off of Mac DeMarco’s latest album, This Old Dog. If “Don’t Want to Say Good-Bye” was the song that helped me when I was in the throes of heartache, then “One Another” was the song that helped me out of it. You see, this ain’t no run-of-the-mill love song. Just the same, don’t expect this to be a sad, woe-is-me kind of tearjerker. No, the title of the song comes into play in a delightfully helpful way if you’re trying to move on from a past relationship: “It’s not like, you never / Tried to forget her / But these days, are better / Without one another.”
When something or someone that you have loved and cherished is gone, the only way to heal is to let go. This is a fact of life, and in 2017, I learned that, thanks to Mac DeMarco. Mr. Mac, the one and only Pepperoni Playboy, is perhaps one of the greatest, wisest minds of our generation. Seriously, he gives some solid life advice to his fans. Truly an enlightened sage, he’s crammed so much wisdom in 2 minutes and 46 seconds. With lines like “Hey kid / Everybody’s prone to some mistakes / If you’d always kept it straight, you’d never learn / You’d run the risk of all the risks you take” or, my personal favorite, “And although / A broken heart needs time to mend / Yours wasn’t ever really broken, was it? / In losing love, you gain a friend.” At only 27, Mac DeMarco appears like he’s lived a lifetime and, luckily for us, wrote down all that he’s learned. Take this incredibly low-budgeted music video as another example of his sheer wisdom. It asks the questions, How do you deal with death? How do you let it into your life without it casting a crippling shadow? Well, you let it in — welcome it into your home, so to speak. Befriend Death, but keep it at arm’s reach. Learn to, as they say in the revelatory video, “Rock, one more time.” You see, death is inevitable, it’s always with us wherever we go. The least we could do to soften the blow or to be at peace with it is accept its existence into our lives. This has gotten pretty existential, but the point is this: do not let anything, not even Death, get in the way of you taking risks and living your life.
2018 will be the year I take the wisdom from “One Another” and apply it to my life. I will take risks and get out of my comfort zone. Living comfortably is fine — it’s probably what the majority of us all desire — but living without risk is a pretty linear existence. If you have never failed, then you have never taken risks, and you have never pushed yourself to become better. In terms of moving on from past loves (or friends, jobs, what have you), I will respect the pain it puts me in; I will understand how it makes me feel in that moment; and, most importantly, I will know that the pain will eventually end. Soon, when I least expect it, I’ll realize that my days have gotten much brighter in the meantime.
ZT: “Woman” by Harry Styles
Sure, this somewhat absurd penultimate song off of Harry Styles’s eponymous debut record holds a far too uncanny resemblance to a particular Elton John number, but I can appreciate this level of humorous homage if you can — complete with duck sound effects and an endearing spoken word opening voiced by YouTuber FrankJavCee: “Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find?” My boyfriend asked me many derivatives of this question during this year’s summer: a long three months that immediately followed university graduation, spent alternating between sweating profusely in his Astoria, Queens apartment and sweating profusely outside in the merciless 90+ degree weather. Our summer days were spent applying to dozens if not hundreds of entry-level positions, all while trying to keep our mental and physical health from dropping into jadedness and utter exhaustion, respectively, while working six-day weeks at our part-time jobs. Time often seemed to pass by slooooowly, just like during this almost five-minute song. But that can be pleasant. Sexy, even. The smokin’ hot guitar is the perfect background for Styles’s self-deprecating and jealous crooning, but he’s so obviously having such a great time doing what he does best: singing out his lonely but fun-loving heart. His nostalgia of better days with his now ex-lover very quickly turns into super emo hyperbole in the verses about what she may be doing now with her new boyfriend: “He’s right where I should, where I should be / But you’re making me bleed” and “I’m empty, I know / And promises are broken like a stitch is.” It all pays off with the “Voman! Voman! La la la la la la, V-Voman” chorus that proves how down Styles is to poke a whole lotta fun at himself. You know, because he’s being dramatic as hell.
The proudly rock and roll instrumental part of the song consists of that classic guitar again in all its glory, punctuated with a bittersweet piano melody. To this day, this song brings me back to the seemingly interminable dog day afternoons from late May to early September: anxiety-ridden days drifting on by like molasses, interrupted every now and then by a trip to the beach, a camping weekend in Vermont, an editorial test from one of my favorite magazines, and, finally, the job interview and offer that catapulted me into the very much welcome next chapter of my post-grad life. (Because Styles has had such a great year, I also recommend Christopher Nolan’s feature film from the summer, as well as this article from The Atlantic on why Styles’s performance in Dunkirk worked but Ed Sheeran’s on Game of Thrones did not.)
LC: “911 / Mr. Lonely” by Tyler, the Creator
Like Mac DeMarco, here’s another antic-loving goofball in the music industry: Tyler, the Creator. Matured, refined, and sonically pleasing, Tyler’s fourth album Flower Boy is his most self-reflective and honest. Tyler never shies away way from candor, but here he’s truly sincere and vulnerable, and it makes for another layer to his erratic music. Now, that being said, the song I’ve chosen here is not the most soul-baring off the album. However, there’s still plenty of sincerity to be found, not to mention one of the chillest, grooviest beats released this year. The background vocals (the disembodied voices of Steve Lacy and Tyler’s good friend Frank Ocean) going, “911” and “Caaaaaaaaaall meeee” bring back those old school, 90’s hip hop vibes.
In the “911” half of the song, the phone number belongs to Tyler. Here he’s being flirtatious, giving out his number, telling the object of his desire (through the voice of Mr. Ocean) “Call me sometime / Please bang my line.” At first, it’s all fun: Tyler quickly name drops Beyonce, Celine Dion, and Elon Musk; he brags about his sold out show; he makes fun of you for not being in the front row. Later on, he’s talking about his five car garage (and how each of his five cars have full tanks of gas). It becomes quickly apparent that all this showboating is a defense mechanism. Tyler, the Creator keeps himself surrounded with glamour and sports cars because he is incredibly lonely. So when he brags about his car collection, he immediately turns around and admits: “But that don’t mean nothin’, nothin’, nothin’, nothin’ / Without you shotgun in the passenger / I am the loneliest man alive / But I keep on dancin’ to throw ’em off.” Right then, the song switches, and here comes “Mr. Lonely” in all his heavy-hearted isolation.
“I can’t even lie / I’ve been lonely as f**k” begins this half. From then on, “Mr. Lonely” unravels into an impassioned, gut-spilling tirade. You don’t always get this kind of honesty from artists, so when you hear someone like Tyler, the Creator being so open about his feelings of loneliness, it can be jarring. You might wonder to yourself, “Does he know much he’s revealing right now?” It’s a scary thing, being vulnerable. But in 2017 (closer to the end of it, if I’m being honest), I learned that there’s great strength in being vulnerable, honest, open. Acting as if you’re tough all the time, or not letting anybody in/get close to you, is not strength. It’s a lonely, weak-willed life. If there’s anything I’ve learned from Tyler, the Creator, it’s that there’s no shame in emotions. There’s no shame in who you are, how you identify, or who you love.
ZT: “Dusk Till Dawn” by ZAYN featuring Sia
Even with the year’s expectedly disappointing season of The Bachelor (and the far more unexpectedly dismaying outcome of The Bachelorette), this inspired song from two of the world’s most potent pop stars proves that romance is, after all, not yet dead. Zayn and Sia’s epic duet on unconditional love and magnificent commitment bursts with the kind of red hot passion that very often can only be found in the best of Classic Hollywood’s black-and-white films (see: Hitchcock’s Notorious; Bogie & Bacall movies). There’s even a grand, thrilling, blockbuster-esque music video of hot pursuit to perfectly match the unstoppable tone of the song. What’s so fantastic about Zayn’s verses of die-hard romance is how tender he sounds: such genuine masculinity is highlighted with his considerable talents to sing — and ask, providing the gateway for a conversation that’s truly a two-way street — sweetly and low (“Not tryna be indie / Not tryna be cool / Just tryna be in this / Tell me, are you too?” — there’s room for an understandable “no” from his lover, and you trust that the man in the situation will get it and be able to handle it either way), then erupt into the strong-willed, dedicated chorus that eradicates any semblance of uncertainty, doubt, and fickleness.
Sia’s contribution to the chorus adds the perfectly feminine finishing touch (especially during the line “Baby, I am right here”), allowing for a sense that this level of romance was earned through hard work and keeping a level head, even during times spent apart and alone. Zayn’s effortless charm radiates with the knowledge of effort that’s necessary (and sometimes unglamorous) to keep a relationship healthy and happy. As a fellow artist of Asian descent, I find that it’s always encouraging to see a multi-talented guy like Zayn continue to find success in various genres of popular music. This is, by far, one of my favorite things that Sia’s done all year. She is always a force to be reckoned with.
LC: “DNA.” by Kendrick Lamar
“5–4–3–2–1.” The countdown to hardest drop of the year. I don’t care what anyone else says, I don’t want to hear it: Kung Fu Kenny goes off on “DNA.” (and the original Kung Fu Kenny is in the music video). This song will hype you up for whatever you’re about to do. Play it before you go clubbing; jam out to it when you’re headed grocery shopping. Going to the DMV? Blast “DNA.” That’s it — that’s all I really have to say (but I will say more, trust me).
The world was wondering how Kendrick Lamar was going to follow his 2015 masterpiece, To Pimp a Butterfly. To be honest, I thought he was going to pull a Frank Ocean and keep us waiting for years until his next record. Thankfully, we only had to wait two years for DAMN., a project so good, so complete, that it’s just as good (if not better!) when played in reverse order. I think a lot of us were really waiting to hear Kendrick’s thoughts on the state of America: more about police brutality, more on divisive politics, and yes, of course, regarding President Donald Trump. Kendrick did not disappoint, singling out Trump, Fox News, and Geraldo Rivera.
“DNA.” is empowering. It’s full of frustration, determination, confidence: things that I both had and desperately needed more of in 2017. I wasn’t kidding when I said this song can hype you up for anything. We can all agree that this past year has been a doozy, and when I needed to feel strong again, I would blast my speakers with this jam. I’d try to keep up with the rapid-fire verses of the second half. I’d feel the rally call in my bones. Kendrick Lamar was there when things seemed utterly hopeless.
ZT: “Tell Me You Love Me” by Demi Lovato
The more I hear from Demi Lovato, the more I want to continue disciplining myself as an artist. I mean, with such careful precision and a work ethic this formidable, you could produce material like what Lovato has put out into the world in the past few months alone: her second documentary Simply Complicated (an absolute must-see that prioritizes honesty over all else) and her sixth studio album Tell Me You Love Me (by far her best, most compelling, and most idiosyncratic record yet). The latter’s first track and lead single, “Sorry Not Sorry,” is a perfect song, and you probably know that by now because it’s on your top five most played on Spotify. My favorite writer, Jia Tolentino, tweeted: “Just imagined Demi Lovato doing Sorry Not Sorry with a gospel choir & felt so happy that I instinctively wished for death.” Dreams do come (partly) true with the following track on the record, the eponymously named “Tell Me You Love Me.”
The first few moments of the song already trumpet a generous, total sense of triumph, and that vibe continues, even as Lovato’s lyrics become increasingly vulnerable. But that’s where the victory comes from: the more she lets her heart be heard, the more she wins, regardless of the direction that her relationship is headed towards. Taking care of herself is not mutually exclusive from nurturing a romantic relationship, but what would the latter be if the former was kept quiet? Her apologies (“Bad at love, no, I’m not good at this / But I can’t say I’m innocent / Not hardly, but I’m sorry”) are both for the man she loves and for herself, an assurance to him that she knows how she’s messed up, and (perhaps more courageously) a rude awakening to herself that she needs to work on improving as a person and as a lover. The pre-chorus (“And all my friends, they know and it’s true / I don’t know who I am without you / I got it bad, baby / Got it bad”) and the last two lines of the chorus (“No, you ain’t nobody ’til you got somebody / You ain’t nobody ’til you got somebody”) remind me of a monologue from Bette Davis’s beloved character in All About Eve. It is a quote I don’t necessarily totally agree with, but I think of it often:
Funny business, a woman’s career — the things you drop on your way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you’ll need them again when you get back to being a woman. That’s one career all females have in common, whether we like it or not: being a woman. Sooner or later, we’ve got to work at it, no matter how many other careers we’ve had or wanted. And in the last analysis, nothing’s any good unless you can look up just before dinner or turn around in bed, and there he is. Without that, you’re not a woman. You’re something with a French provincial office or a book full of clippings, but you’re not a woman. Slow curtain, the end.
And yet, despite Lovato’s break up from last year that influenced much of the album’s songwriting (background information via the aforementioned documentary available on YouTube), the gospel choir in her song’s chorus makes me think also about faith and relationships with God, and how those have been seriously tested during the year 2017. “Everything I need / Is standing in front of me / I know that we will be alright, alright, yeah” is a sentiment I find increasingly more difficult to say these days, whether it be to God above or to my best friend on the other line. And yet, it does get said, during the most important moments. Sometimes, I can’t do all of this alone, but when Lovato belts out these feelings with the utmost control of her incredible voice, I no longer worry if needing someone is a poor judgment of my own character that screams lack of independence. Perhaps that’s how I know that I’m letting myself actually help myself: by asking others for an extra helping hand along the way. Lovato emerges as the leader of her choir; and yet, without them, she would not be as powerful as she is throughout this show-stopper of a song. That’s not weakness. That’s community. I don’t think she’s trying to prove anything so much as she’s trying to share, support, and champion. This essay on Lovato’s year, latest record, and journey as an artist with a troubled past explains it far better than I ever could. And don’t forget to watch the music video for this song. Raw. Real. Resilient.
ZT: “There’s Nothing Holdin’ Me Back” by Shawn Mendes
This song is the new and improved “Something Big.” Back when the underrated Shawn Mendes was starting to get millions of views on his Vine (an app that is now defunct, by the way! I didn’t know that until two days ago… because I never used Vine), my sister (his biggest fan who once asked his manager if Mendes could perform at her sweet 16 in early 2015; by then, Mendes had already become so famous, we couldn’t afford a simple set performance priced in the five-digit range) and I discussed how it was obvious that the Canadian singer was talented, but also, ostensibly, untrained. More and more, with the release of his self-titled debut EP and his first LP (Handwritten, which included the single Stitches that skyrocketed him to mainstream recognition and adoration), Mendes found more and more of his groove, playing it safe with the kind of lyrics that a teenage boy would sing to the girl of his dreams waiting by his locker. His defining characteristic? A charm of pure adolescence and simple earnestness.
Then, with last year’s second studio album, Illuminate, and his sold out Madison Square Garden concert (my sister and I attended; 10/10 time), Mendes began to explore songwriting while already famous, delving into styles out of his usual range: the raspy yet commanding blurting out of “Better than he can!” on “Treat You Better,” the wise acceptance of the demise of a once lively relationship on “Three Empty Words” and “Honest,” the John Mayer-esque vibes of “Ruin,” the ever so pleasant humming juxtaposed with desperate pleading on “Mercy” (both on the original and acoustic versions), and the astounding “Bad Reputation” that confirms how Mendes, as an artist and celebrity personality, is willing to confront the more complex aspects of coming of age, especially in the public eye. Check out his performance of “Bad Reputation” on his Live at MSG album. Actually, just check out the whole album, or spend a few hours looking up concert videos. The guy is seriously good.
Which brings us to “There’s Nothing Holdin’ Me Back,” a single released this year and is now included on the reissue of Illuminate. Here, we’ve got Mendes’s usual optimism, upbeat tempo, and confessions of liking and maybe even loving a lady friend. He pulls off the narrative shift from talking about her in the verses and pre-choruses (“I wanna follow where she goes / I think about her and she knows it”) to talking to her in the choruses (“You take all my inhibitions / Baby, there’s nothing holding me back”; “I feel so free when you’re with me, baby”), and I think that the change feels smooth because of how the song continually builds up to such confidence. Previously in much of his songwriting, Mendes was willing to offer such comfort, affection, and companionship, but there wasn’t much about what that would do for himself. Leaving a major part of himself out of his own narrative is fine (he’s not self-centered… so, yay!), but after a record or two, fans will want to get more of a glimpse of not just what Mendes is willing to do for his girl, but why. There’s a level of self-love that’s necessary in writing about what a person can do to you, make you do, and inspire you to achieve, and the conversation between him and the listener feels much more complete when there’s a give-and-take. He’s also careful to make evident that such freedom isn’t quick and easy (“Oh, I’ve been shaking / I love it when you go crazy”; “‘Cause if we lost our minds and we took it way too far / I know we’d be alright, I know we would be alright”), but it’s worth the risk. She’s worth the risk. Oh, and there’s some great yet subtle flirtation going on in this song’s lyrics. Innocent and sweet, curious and cute. It’s always a pleasant surprise to keep seeing Mendes find new ways to not just get the girl, but to also go on these awesome adventures. Living your youthful life to the best and its most potent.
LC: “Two Arrows” by Real Estate
Real Estate is perhaps my favorite contemporary band. I first heard them when I was a sophomore in college. I would listen to their 2011 album, Days, when studying. It was calming and introspective, minimalist and lush, and extremely nostalgic. At that time in my life — okay, this is still true today — I lived off of nostalgia: I thrived on it; it was my catalyst for most of my artistic pursuits. “Green Aisles” is still my favorite song from the band. It sounded like someone took all my memories of riding in the backseat of my parents’ cars as they drove down the isolated, winding roads of suburban Cincinnati. Listening to that song, I could see the fields, ranches, train tracks, and the wide open, blue skies as clearly as I did back then. (See? I’m still awfully nostalgic.)
Six years have passed since Days was released, and Real Estate (a great band from New Jersey, like the Misfits and My Chemical Romance) show that they have grown quite a bit with In Mind. Their members are now older (duh), married, and fathers. Not only that, these guys have evolved musically. They’ve honed their craft and are more precise than ever. “Two Arrows,” I feel, is the ultimate display of their growth. Six minutes and 51 seconds long, it’s the second lengthiest song on their catalog, and the final three minutes are reserved for an instrumental jam session that sails into distortion and increasingly bursts at the seams with incredibly layered soundscapes. Listening to it for the first time, I was left speechless. Here is a band where all the musicians are at the top of their game, and they bring out all the stops on this track that lands halfway through their album. You could place “Two Arrows” on the Beatles’ Abbey Road and it would sound right at home. It’s reminiscent of “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” in scope and exactly like “Her Majesty” with that abrupt end.
Now, what exactly did I gain from this song in 2017? How did it get me through the year? To be honest, I didn’t realize it until Zennie invited me to write on this piece that “Two Arrows” truly did get me through the year. Along with Real Estate, I realized that I’ve grown and matured, too. Both the band and myself have come a long way since 2011. While nostalgia still plays a large part in both of our artistic inspirations, it seems we’ve also embraced the current state of our lives. Things are changing, we are changing. We don’t have to turn our backs on who we used to be — we can still look back with rose-tinted glasses from time to time (who doesn’t?), but we also know how to move forward, to evolve as artists and humans. Turn all of your kaleidoscopic memories, events, hopes, and wishes into art. Turn your life into art. In 2018, I urge everyone, including myself, to take what life gives you and move forward with it, create something out of it.
ZT: “Perfect Places” by Lorde
I started NYU four and a half years ago, often spending days on end exclusively listening to Lorde’s debut studio record, Pure Heroine. I ended my undergraduate education this spring, raving about her highly anticipated and universally acclaimed follow-up album, Melodrama, which begins and ends with the best songs: “Green Light” and “Perfect Places,” respectively.
Out of this outstanding collection of songs, melodic musings, and insanely infectious beats, I find “Perfect Places” closest in feeling to Pure Heroine. We are young, we are hungry, but we are lost and we don’t know how to satisfy our cravings for… just, something. Anything good in this constantly disappointing world that seems adamant about knocking us down and making sure we stay there, all while we seem to have little to no control over these events: “I hate the headlines and the weather”; “It’s just another graceless night”; “‘Cause I don’t know / If they keep tellin’ me where to go / I’ll blow my brains out to the radio, oh.” We know that not everything that’s bad is our fault, and it’s not because we are evasive and want to be kept blameless. We just want to live our lives, some version of our dreams of simplicity and sweetness, but it’s not currently possible.
So we indulge whenever we can (unwilling to hurt anyone except maybe ourselves, every once and a while, which quite honestly feels better than feeling absolutely nothing at all), and it’s not a totally happy existence, but it’s some sort of way to live, at the very least: “Every night, I live and die / Feel the party to my bones”; “I’m 19 and I’m on fire / But when we’re dancing I’m alright”; “Are you lost enough? / Have another drink, get lost in us / This is how we get notorious, oh.” Lorde continues to be so amazing in her ability to express her individuality through her insistence that the pack’s gotta stick together, that it’s all about “us” and “we” and not just “you” or “me”, that each other’s all we got: “All of the things we’re taking / ’Cause we are young and we’re ashamed / Send us to perfect places / All of our heroes fading / Now I can’t stand to be alone / Let’s go to perfect places.” All is not swell even in the brightness of youth and adolescence. Paying homage to what James Dean and Natalie Wood could so convincingly portray to movie audiences several decades ago, Lorde’s vulnerability might be what is keeping everyone together, even if she herself might be falling apart. Maybe not all of our heroes are dead just yet. We still have the likes of Ella Marija Lani Yelich-O’Connor.
In the outro, as the music begins to pick up more and more and the clouds continue to gather, Lorde takes a step back and existentially considers the point of it all, wondering how to move forward: “All the nights spent off our faces / Trying to find these perfect places / What the fuck are perfect places anyway?” It is the painful, frustrating, and sometimes even crushing realization that right and wrong should be simple concepts to understand and implement, but the rules of the world’s games have been so drastically altered, there’s little to no foundation left in just about every department of life: morals, society, family, relationships, people’s rights, the fate of the earth itself. When she asks that WTF question, Lorde is full of anger. But it’s the anger of an activist, willing to take a stand and keep fighting, looking ahead, and taking all of her comrades with her along the way. In the final denouement with those last lines, all is now quiet and calm. The drama of it all will absolutely continue to live on tomorrow… but for right now, just for tonight, we can just pause. Breathe. And bask in whatever beauty remains.
