When I first downloaded Willow and began listening to it, I knew I wasn’t ready yet. I first heard Sloppy Jane because their song “Bark Like A God” was on a Halloween playlist on spotify, and I was absolutely obsessed with it. But that song taken out of context of the whole album is an entirely different experience than what Willow provides. When I started the first track that day after buying the album, I knew it wasn’t the right time for me to listen and love it yet. Cut to a few months later, my grandfather just died from covid, I’m stressed with my corporate job, and my house is a mess. I put this album on, listened to it start to finish, and then played it again. And then again. It was the only thing I could listen to. It was the right time.
I’m not saying you have to be in a
state of desperation to enjoy Sloppy Jane, because I absolutely don’t think
that’s true. I’m saying that my own emotional state allowed me to tap into the
story[1]
Willow tells in a way I wasn’t able to before. Before all that shit happened,
when I listened all I heard was chaos. Now, I listen and yeah, it’s chaos, but
it’s also the only music that directly reflected my brain in that time of
stress. Now, even when I’m in a great mood, I can listen to these songs and I
feel a part of me unwind with recognition. That stress and anxiety that’s
always in the back of my head is seen in these songs, and it stays away for a
little longer[2].
I also gotta say that the front
person, Haley Dahl, is a huge reason why I fell in love with the band so
quickly. I was reading articles about her, and she mentions in an interview with atwood magazine that she makes music for the people who pour over the lyrics
and obsess over every connection they can make with it. Immediately, I knew
that meant me. I dive into obsessions, letting them consume me completely, and
here was an artist who created art specifically for that purpose. As I kept researching
her, I read her story about finding a coat on the sidewalk and vowing to wear
it until it disintegrated off her body. She wore it every day for a year
without washing it. I cannot even put into words how fucking cool I think that
level of commitment is. Even when it got physically uncomfortable for her, she
stuck by her promise to herself. I have never done something with that amount
of conviction before. I’m in actual awe of her ability to do that.
I follow Dahl on her Patreon, and
recently submitted a question for her advice column. It was a long-winded and
convoluted essay about the way I obsess over things and use it as an excuse to
punish myself for not meeting my own standards. I felt that she, someone with
more conviction in her pinky toe than I have in my whole body, might be the
right person to ask. And I was right. She answered me with such kindness and
wisdom, despite only being a year older than me. Her response to my tendency to
worship celebrities made me cry. She said, “We want to be seen and we want to
be loved and that’s why we make music and paint and write, and that’s why you
do it too, and we’re the same.” I think that’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted
to hear. My quest for attention from various celebrities is rooted in wanting
to be their peer. I want to be the same as them because I have put them on this
pedestal of greatness and worthiness that I aim to achieve, but by comparing
myself to this false level of perfection, I automatically discount anything good
about myself, because it’s never enough[3].
It’s a lovely case of serendipity that
the last post of this project centers around closing the book on my obsession
with celebrities, especially because this entire project started as an attempt
to get my favorite artists to notice me[4].
This morning, I was listening to an episode of Say More, a podcast by two poets
I admire. They spoke about how oversharing on social media is something they do
when they’re looking for attention and validation because they’re unable to get
it from their own lives. They said it’s something they do more of when they’re
unwell. I actually laughed out loud when I heard that, because it’s true. The
last six months of my life have been marked by a strange hysteria of needing
external validation. I know I’m still in the throughs of seeking that
validation from anyone who isn’t myself, but I also know I’m trying much harder
to pull myself away from that. I know that the reason I over share is because I’m
searching for that confirmation that comes from others. Likes and views can
feel like support at times, but ultimately, I’ve just made it become another
way to measure my self-worth, and that isn’t helpful at all. Also, yes I’m
aware that I’m still oversharing on the internet by talking about the
psychological reasoning behind my tendency to overshare, but frankly whatever. Until
I’m at a place where I’m comfortable enough in my own consciousness, my social
media will be a front row seat to my own weird psychoanalysis. That’s ok with
me for now.
Willow by Sloppy Jane is the most
recent album that has contributed to my sense of self, which is why it’s the
last one I’ll write about. I listen to it nearly every day (and you should too). I lament the fact
that I never got to see them perform live, because I know their tour was full
of the most incredible performances I could imagine, including a 12-piece band,
blue glitter vomit, and the kind of audience participation/interactions that both
get you out of your insecurities and makes you hyper aware of your own skin. There’s
a new album in the works, one that I believe was recorded almost entirely in a
cave. Being able to watch the process on Patreon is deeply confounding and
inspiring. So often I see the projects of artists I admire as proof that I will
never be as good or cool as they are, and while I still think that’s true to
some extent, being able to see Dahl’s progress and her transparency regarding
each step is actively helping me to urge myself forwards.
I don’t know what I plan on doing
now that this particular project is over. I set out to write about 45 albums,
one album a day, every day, 500 words or less. I didn’t really do that. It took
me 3 months to write about all 45, and towards the end the posts were more like
1,000 words than 500, but I finished what I meant to do. There are some albums
I had planned on writing about but never did. Maybe I’ll do a runners-up
category, or maybe I’ll do specific songs that made me who I am next. Regardless,
writing this much and this consistently has expanded my sense of trust in
myself. I’ve really enjoyed doing this, especially when it sparks conversations
with people about what I write. Thank you to everyone who engaged with these
posts. It’s been a pleasure.
[1]
And I sure do fucking love a narrative album!! This post doesn’t even delve
into the story of Willow, but damn is it cool.
[2] Recently
I was in a SHIT mood and I played this album way too loudly while cooking
dinner, and by the time it was over I felt fucking fantastic. This album saves
lives.
[3] To
read more of her absolutely brilliant response to my validation-seeking panic,
subscribe to her Patreon.
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