Liner Notes
I'm currently learning ever lyric to DNA by Kendrick Lamar. It's arguably the best rap song of all time. Come at me! Thomas and I have listened to it countless times, and every time we're like "what the fuck?!" while playfully hitting each other in disbelief. It's that good. Kendrick is just spitting fire, punning on every fifth word, and proving his GOAT-ness. The layers are so numerous and deep there's many a podcast dedicated to the depth and nuance of his lyrical prowess. Dude can rap. I know, groundbreaking revelation. I am the first to say it, shocking, such a hot take I know, but dammit I'm saying it!
So I am putting in the time to learn every beat and flow to this fucking bop for a couple of reasons:
1) I want to have something killer to spit at karaoke once we can go outside again.
2) It's a trip down memory lane.
Even though the song is only a few years old, it's bringing me back to a much earlier time.
Time has changed hasn't it? It's started to feel so short and infinite since lock down. The days whip by yet our new routine seems endless, no? Everything seems dull yet somehow profound. Long yet short. Important yet meaningless. In a way, for me, it reminds me of childhood. The days came and went without feeling like I needed to get things done or figure my shit out. I was much more 'whatever' about everything. As a kid, I seemed to understand going with the flow much better. It probably had something to do with the fact that I wasn't making that many decisions. I didn't have to worry about paying a mortgage or the impending end of days. Y'know, shit was lighter.
It's been a long while since I sat down and just luxuriated and listened to music like I used to. Like really listened, on repeat. And ripped it apart while trying to get inside of it. Really trying to own it in a fanatic way so I could make the music mine because I like, knew it, like, way super better than, like, anyone else, okayyy?!
Remember getting a new album back in the day and just devouring it? I remember On Sunday Morning my parents bought me No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom in 1995. I locked myself in my room and listened to it over and over and over. Snarling "Are you happy nooooow? All by yourselffffff", at the top of my lungs as if I knew the first thing about being dumped at 9 years old. Obsessing over how I could become as effortlessly cool as Gwen (v. different than 2020 Gwen, eh?!). Trying to figure out if I should try and rock a bindi like Gwen. The answer, even back then, was no, but I considered it?! I wasn't aware of cultural appropriation and Gwen probably wasn't either, god I hope she wasn't. We were both obliviously privileged. But I worshiped her. At the time I thought she was the epitome of cool and athleticism. She would pogo through a whole set wailing her anthems and not giving a shit that she was a sweaty disaster. The closest I got to pogo-ing was microwaving three corndogs and calling it dinner.
There was something about that intense music-listening-focus that made everything else stand still. Family bickering. Childhood angst. Bourgeoning anxiety disorder symptoms. None of them really existed while I warbled along getting the timing and lyrics perfect to I'm Just Girl, skanking around my bedroom. Skanking as in dancing, guys, c'mon.
As an adult I still listen to music but as an official Olde, I am very aware of my time and how much of it I'm 'wasting'. Productivity, in a capitalist society, has been the only way to measure my worth, so I bought into the cult of the do-ers. I forgot the joys of just getting wrapped up in a musician's work and letting myself throughly get inside of it, bop along, and lose track of time.
Now that time has this brand new feel, friends are a no-no irl, and I don't have to travel for work, yoga, or chats, I'm enjoying giving myself the permission to become a fan again. I know this is a very privileged thing to be able to do. Not everyone is just hanging out 'bored in the house', because being 'bored in the house' is pretty luxurious. But I think, for those of us lucky enough to be in our similar given situations, it bears reminding that we don't need to be makers right now if it doesn't suit us. I don't need to be more, or do more. I don't need to prove my worth to a world in crisis.
I don't need to feel guilty for not go-go-go-ing and pushing all the time. I just need to put a record on. Shove my nose in the proverbial liner notes, and remember the things that bring me joy for joy's sake. I hope the same for you. I hope you're able to scale things back. I hope you're able to find an album that makes you forget what time is. I hope you find something as dope as Kendrick preaching "backbone don't exist. Born onside a jellyfish I gauge." And I hope you find the inspiration to prance in front of the mirror with your hairbrush microphone and just fuckin' give'r.