Around Mac Miller
I sit here, writing in the wake of a recent death. An artist, whom I held in high esteem, has died. It’s put me in a reflective mood. I do not believe I am alone in that sentiment. Twitter, Facebook, all tell of a tsunami rippling across the internet. That being said, I do not believe it is from a cold-hearted aestheticism that I explore his now-shattered oeuvre.
In many ways, Mac Miller was a troubled artist. His death by drug overdose would seem to confirm that. Anyone familiar with Mac Miller will tell you that his work is in part about drugs. Of course this is true, but it is only a statement about the content of his songs, in a disinterested, descriptive sense, and it doesn’t reflect a very good sense of them. Drugs are important for him, but calling him a “drug addict” is lazy. He said as much to Rolling Stone, barely a month ago, that his relationship with drugs is “really not that simple.”
Take “Objects in the Mirror” for instance. There tends to be two interpretations of this song. I won’t say what they are now. But, I think it’s important to admit that there is by no means a consensus on how to hear the song, and also to admit that there hasn’t been anywhere near an infinite multiplicity of interpretations, just two-or-so.
The song centers on the repetition of a hook which ends, “Let’s leave it all in the rear view.” This line gives the song its name, “Objects in the Mirror.” So, what are the objects? On a casual listen, or by hearing it on the radio (though I doubt it ever was on it), you might think that he’s referring to a past relationship. He is singing a soliloquy to a woman. If you’ve gotten that much, you’ve got the gist. It sounds like a love song. He’s talking to a woman. The line, “He ain’t gonna break your heart again,” must be referring to her nasty ex. The rhetorical tone of the lyrics make the song sound like a plea to this woman, and there’s a hope that, together, they might “leave it all in the rear view,” and set out on a new beginning.
In as much as the song centers around that line, it also decouples around that line. Stripping the line of its rhetorical meaning as “a new beginning,” by actually taking a look at the objects in the mirror, you might notice that, in a rear view mirror, objects are both behind you and in pursuit of you. This sort of doubling, or cycling, is embedded in the song writ large. The chorus is repeated in typical fashion, but there’s also repetition within the chorus itself. “Can you hide away” is repeated twice, so are “Let’s leave it all in the rear view,” and “You don’t have to cry.” The problems between him and his love are complicated by repetition, an inescapable repetition. He’s “not so sure there’s an end at all.” He wants a release, to “be free once.” The album title, “Watching movies with the Sound Off,” adds meaning to the line “Sound of silence as they all just watch you.” He’s trapped in a sitcom. It’s the same tired plot, the same tired problems.
Seen through this mirror, his sitcom of continual chase and evasion is repeated and repeated, until it becomes an object. Our past is always an object to us. It’s lost experience; we search for it, we try to describe and feel it. The present is felt, immediate, subjective. But, repetition — from the moment of deja vu, when we are surprised to be back where we were, to the realization that repetition itself characterizes our experience — comes in degrees. Soon after a few repetitions, we become numb to that first moment, to that first repetition. It echoes across the series, and loses its tinge. When we’ve reached that point of anesthesia, when repetition becomes automatic without difference, we’re imprisoned in an object, a recurring past (we all know that an object is precisely that which repeats without difference). We become an object reflected in the mirror of the moment.
If you haven’t made your way here yet, addiction functions this way. “Just a little taste and you know she got you.” One sip, and you’re trapped. A repetition, fulfilled by the satisfaction of some biological craving, starts to take control of our autonomy, and we quickly become passive, an object of an addiction. That line could refer to drugs and an imprisonment to addiction. But, it’s important to note, that it could just as easily refer to fame. We’ve all read about people who have gotten a “taste” of fame and lost themselves. Listen to the line, “I wish we could go and be free, once,” and note that it sounds like, “I wish we could go and be famous.” The following line, “We could change the world forever,” seems also to hinge on the couple becoming famous together.Mac Miller’s relationship with drugs isn’t that simple. It’s knotted together with his fame, his life, and — now — his death.
His death shatters the mirror, trapping his objects in reflection. We can pick and choose how we fit the pieces back together. We can choose to pick up only the purple pieces and make up a cup of lean. Or, we could take those purple pieces, grab a few golden pieces here, the green ones over there, even the barely translucent fragments, and see the mirror for what it really was: the kaleidoscope of a troubled, but beautiful mind.

