Mitski Miyawaki’s fourth album “Puberty 2” exemplifies longing without moving, a diagnosis with no relief, and a goal without a plan. However, the 11 tracks identify crystal-clear revelations, serving as a testament to her razor-sharp self-awareness. Recognition is the first step in catalyzing change, but a stronger force keeps her paralyzed.
Having lived in 13 countries due to her father’s traveling job, the Japanese-American singer-songwriter is no stranger to fleeting hellos and goodbyes or feeling like an outsider looking in. A life of constant impermanence inevitably leads her to approach positive emotions with reluctance and skepticism, not out of mere pessimism, but as an act of guarding herself. Why accept happiness at face-value given its unreliable and fleeting nature, just to leave you high and dry? Why rise just to fall harder from a higher distance? By utilizing astute metaphors, rich multi-layered instrumentation and gut punching vocal delivery, Mitski proves that she is up or down but never in between. The 2016 record paints heightened grandiosity and unrelenting depressive episodes in full color. Embarking on such a diversified and dynamic sound palette is nothing short of ambitious, yet Mitski and sole producer Patrick Hyland managed to rise above the challenge in two weeks flat at a studio in Westchester, New York. Swiftly transitioning from erratic breakdowns into medicated confessionals, she assigns her raw emotion as the record’s creative director, sending each instrument, melody, tempo and chord progression to their rightful place. Entering an effect-heavy, multi-instrumental sphere of production can easily result in muddy final mixes, yet Mitski and Hyland’s pristine editing ears caused for a beautiful symphony of controlled chaos. In “Happy,” an electronic kickdrum is stuck on loop, lulled organ synths waver, and live drum patterns grow in complexity as Mitski cleverly personifies happiness as a one-night stand. The subject visits her with cookies and lays her down only to make a mess in her apartment and disappear while she is cleaning up in the bathroom. She likens depression to a man hanging off a cliff with his arms overstretched in "Dan the Dancer." Pursuing a love interest would demand Dan to let go with one hand in order to hold his partner's, illustrating a life-risking, endangering love. "Once back in his room/He'd return his waving hand back to its cliff/He liked her more than life itself/I'm sure," she sings over wailing guitar feedback, spacey synths and punchy punk drums. Throughout much of the 31-minute LP, Mitski fantasizes about a life unimpeded by depression and anxiety. Intangible inner peace is illustrated by a routine jog and wearing a white button-down. These mundane depictions are later juxtaposed with great intensity, such as in “Crack Baby,” where she likens the pursuit of happiness to a child born addicted to cocaine, needing another fix without understanding the innate desire. “Puberty 2” also addresses the blurred lines between requited love and monomania: Mitski screams her lover’s name from the rooftops, willfully places her bets on the losing player, and stays up all night in case he calls. She knows she is playing a losing game but cannot escape the cycle. “You’re the one/You’re all I ever wanted,” she sings before immediately following up with, “I think I’ll regret this.” Tapping into sonic layers of ‘90s fuzzy distortion, her thin telephone vocals cut through: “Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me/But I do, I think I do.” By the end of the “Your Best American Girl,” she resists the pressure to conform, unapologetically singing, “But I do, I finally do.” We all crave a sense of belonging and acceptance, and sometimes that means diluting ourselves down to appear as desirable. We take steps both forward and backwards, as stepping into our identity is an ongoing journey. Mitski has been on both sides of compliance and resistance, but out of pure exhaustion, she cries out repeatedly in "Thursday Girl:" "Somebody, please, tell me no." Over hi-hats, a poised bassline, and a floating synth, she desperately surrenders to the night, acknowledging how its shroud of darkness fuels her self-destructive behaviors. In a manic fit of rage, Mitski delivers her stream-of-consciousness over volatile, screeching instrumentation in “My Body’s Made of Crushed Little Stars.” Pinballing from concerns over a job interview and affording rent to her desire of seeing the whole world and going down in history as a martyr, she sings, “Would you kill me, Jerusalem?/Come find me.” By combining unrelenting existentialism with quotidian responsibilities, she acknowledges the disconnects between her mind, body, dreams and reality. This is contrasted by melancholy finale “A Burning Hill” where Mitski sings to herself, “I've been a forest fire/I am a forest fire/And I am the fire, and I am the forest/And I am a witness watching it,” piecing together the forensics of her self-destructive tendencies. The puzzle of “Puberty 2,” in all its density, feels intentionally incomplete. Some of the pieces are missing, and Mitski doesn’t care to know whether they were stolen or hidden from her; she will close the box, shove it under her bed and try again later.
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Florist’s sophomore album “If Blue Could be Happiness” transports the listener to the coldest day of spring: the flowers are blooming and the sun is shining, but you should have dressed warmer and the wind is turning your hands gray. Emily Sprague, the visionary behind the Brooklyn-based indie folk project, presents the state of being alive as simultaneously simple and utterly terrifying. Throughout the ten tracks of the 2017 LP, lightweight production and soothing vocals are met with lyrical themes of fear, mourning, despair, and existential anxiety. Amidst the darkness, though, Sprague expresses her gratitude of life’s mysteries.
The album starts off with “Blue Mountain Road,” a track that is melodically soothing yet lyrically restless: this paradoxical approach is seen throughout the rest of the album. Sprague sings, “The universe is mine, but I haven’t heard a thing about where I will return when it’s finally time to leave,” showcasing her tendency to ponder a life after this one. Toward the end of the song, she sings, “It [death] is nothing at all but a cloudless summer sky and a warm bright beam of light,” To those who do not ponder death often, this track may be an anxiety-inducing reminder. But to those who suffer from perpetual existential anxiety, it serves as a warm embrace of relatability: “If you’re terrified of living like me, I hope you’ll be fine/Cause were terrified together in this terrifying time,” she sings. Sprague continues this theme of optimistic nihilism in “What I Wanted to Hold.” By recalling the yellow light on her wall and the faces of everyone she has loved, she remembers that every experience will reduce to a memory and her life will one day end. However, she concludes the track by singing, “I’m alive and I’m okay/The air is light blue today,” aiding comfort to a spiraling mind. The chilling standout track “The Fear of Losing This” carries a similar theme yet inspected from a more dismal lens. Sprague realizes that even the memories painted in the brightest of hues will eventually fade as she sings, “Colors of love, they all become gray/Like everywhere I've been, won't be there someday.” Nothing is ours to keep, yet she finds that to be a beautiful thing, pleading the listener to “open your eyes and see what you have.” Within a simple acoustic guitar progression, humming modular synthesizers and a soft vocal delivery, there lies a sense of lingering fear. Instead of ignoring it, she acknowledges and coexists with it. The simple acoustic guitar lines in “Thank You Light” allow Sprague’s words to be at the forefront. Her meek, yet demanding posturing is reinforced when singing, “Look at what I found/There's sound inside me /But I am not that loud/Cut apart my living body and put it in your arms.” This is followed by the title track, which features a production so laid back that it could be easily mistaken for coffee shop music. However, among the brushed drumming, humming organ pad, and acoustic strums, Sprague politely requests attentive listening: “If blue could be happiness then that’s all I’d want.” In the closing track, “Red Bird,” the album’s theme of fear becomes immediate. This track was written and recorded the day before her mother unexpectedly passed away – it remains untouched in its demo form just as her mother had heard it. “Tell the blue jays, ‘come inside’/You love to watch them, now so do I,” Sprague laments. However, she does not finish the album on a note of hopelessness. She goes on to sing, “We both feel so much, I know it from the years I've watched you live/But the sunrise always came” and “I understand the birds now that I've learned some things.” By finding comfort and lucidity in nature, color, and sincere human connection, Sprague processes the world through uninhibited vulnerability. Though life is transient and fragile, “If Blue Could be Happiness” reminds us that there is beauty to be found in its fleeting moments. Pink Floyd’s 1973 album "The Dark Side of the Moon" heeds the importance of intentional listening versus passive hearing. When one takes the time to tune into the undertones of the philosophical lyrics, samples, and tones, it leaves you in existential anguish, closely evaluating your surroundings and the fabrications of the world's current state of affairs. "The Dark Side of the Moon" is not just an album – it is a social commentary painted in an abstract light that opens one’s eyes to cultural studies themes of capitalism, religion, greed, modern life, and external pressure from daily life.
“Speak to Me,” the first track on this 42-minute journey, starts off with a sample of a heartbeat. This sample is used again on the last track, symbolizing the full circle of life. The heartbeat is accompanied by loops of cash register samples, maniacal laughter, a helicopter, and the following spoken words: “I’ve always been mad, I know I’ve been mad, like the most of us have…," showcasing the severity to which one can be pierced by the fast pace of life. These overwhelming samples also prove that anxiety and pressure can be expressed through sound, not only words. This seamlessly transitions into the next track, “Breathe (In the Air).” This ballad, featuring lyrics such as, “Run, rabbit, run/Dig that hole, forget the sun/And when at last the work is done/Don’t sit down, it’s time to dig another one," delves into the exhausting and unending cycles of capitalism. Even when you clock out of work for the day, you return home to your role as a consumer as well as the pressure of having to do it all again the next day. The next verse takes on a different meaning: “For long you live and high you fly/But only if you ride the tide/And balanced on the biggest wave/You race towards an early grave.” These lyrics present the opportunity to “go against the tide,” meaning to resist the cycles biopower and the social constructions found within them. However, the risk of uncertainty that comes with being a trailblazer may result in an early death. “On the Run” is an instrumental accompanied by samples of an airplane, an announcement at an airport, and pounding footsteps. The song concludes with the airplane crashing and a voice that says, “Life for today, gone tomorrow. That’s me.” This track resembles the anxiety that one may feel while traveling perpetuated by the fear of mortality. This showcases the fragility and uncertainty of life. We are then faced with “Time,” a track that confronts existential anxiety dead in the eye. Every moment, life is passing us by, which is alluded to by the layered samples of loud ticking clocks and alarms. The lyrics “Kicking around on a piece of ground in your hometown/Waiting for someone or something to show you the way” suggest the subjectivity of life and the pressure surrounding it. This is to say that our role as “self” and “subject” cannot be separated from each other. No matter what, our role as a subject will always come forth, perhaps out of pressure, waiting on a command or suggestion of what we are supposed to do with our lives. “The Great Gig in the Sky,” the fifth track, consists of a melancholy piano melody and a soulful, lyric-less vocal performance by singer Clare Torry. This track also features the following spoken word sample: “Why should I be frightened of dying? There’s no reason for it, you’ve gotta go sometime.” This track once again alludes to the fear of mortality, which is showcased through Torry’s vocal performance, which sounds as if she is crying out; it is in and of itself an audible anxiety attack that deeply pierces the listener. Following this outcry is “Money.” The upbeat bassline and casual vocal performance contrast the depth of the lyrics in an almost satirical manner. This song comments on the greed and individualism rooted within capitalism. “Money, it’s a gas/Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash,” serves as a double meaning. ‘It’s a gas’ was a popular phrase used in the ‘60s to describe something that is fun, which adds to the sarcastic tone of the song. However, this is also meant in the context of money being a fuel – something that keeps humans going. The track also contains the following lyrics that are intentionally contradictory: “Money, it’s a crime/Share it fairly, but don’t take a slice of my pie.” This is to condemn one’s deeply rooted capitalistic mindset of greed and individualism – one desires equity for the poor or disparaged, but as long as it does not have to come out of their own bank account. Or perhaps one may be in favor of more government spending, but as long as their taxes are not increased. Within the construction of capitalism and our society as a whole, some will always be left behind due to social factors such as race, income, and class. From a position of power, it is easy to say that one simply needs to try harder to make money and achieve the so-called “American Dream.” However, climbing the ladder is much easier said than done, due to the fact that our nation was founded upon power dynamics and social, class, and racial disparity. “Us and Them” mournfully touches on the senselessness of war, disparity, and the social differences that perpetually divide us. The lyrics from Verse 3 stick out to me the most: “With, without/And who’ll deny it’s what the fighting’s all about?” This is to point out that the reasoning behind war is ultimately for one to receive something, and for the other to not receive. These lyrics are immediately followed by, “Out of the way, it’s a busy day/I’ve got things on my mind/For want of the price of tea and a slice/The old man died.” Once again, this sheds light on the themes of greed and power dynamics. An individual from a place of power apathetically desires a commodity at the cost of hundreds of dying. In this context, the “old man” could either be someone who fought in the war or someone who was too poor to afford survival. Overall, this lamenting song carries a notion that it has and inevitably always will be “us” versus “them.” However, the writer wonders why this must be, by pointing out that, "after all, we’re only ordinary men.” Although “Any Colour You Like” is an instrumental jam with no lyrics, it still holds a cognitive meaning. The phrase “any color you like” comes from Henry Ford. According to legends, when he first released his Model T car, he told customers “You can have it in any color you like, as long as it’s black.” Decades later, band member Roger Waters came across this joke when a merchant in Cambridge sold sets of China saying, “You can have them all, any color you like – they’re all blue.” In an interview, Waters makes the following statement: “It denotes offering a choice when there is none. . .Which, if you think about it, relates very much to the light and dark, sun and moon, good and evil. You make your choice, but it’s always blue." Once again, this ties closely to the duality of “self” and “subject." “Any color you like, they’re all blue” is to say that we are granted the freedom to choose what we wear, what we consume, and what we do; however, there are many things still out of our control, for example, the global pandemic we are currently living in. Music commentator "Polyphonic" puts this concept into words very effectively: “In the modern age, though it may feel like we have a whole spectrum of color to choose, in the end, they’re all blue." Although this track does not have any lyrics, the understanding behind the title plays a large role in the cohesion of the album, commenting on how all the themes discussed throughout affect the human mind. This very effect is showcased in “Brain Damage.” Here we see the perspective of the album transition from recognizing these social constructs to how an individual is affected on an intrapersonal level. The second verse holds a very deep meaning: “The lunatic is in my head/You raise the blade/You make the change/You rearrange me ‘til I’m sane/You lock the door/And throw away the key/And there’s someone in my head but it’s not me.” This poses another aforementioned risk of resistance and trailblazing. The individual decides to go against the grain and is consequently labeled by society as a ‘lunatic.’ This sheds light on the agency society holds, being in a position of power to not only label someone as something, but to repudiate and change them. As a result of being changed by society, the individual notes that the person in his head that society rearranged him to be is not actually him. Who is to say that he was a lunatic in the first place? We quickly realize that society’s agency imposed this label upon him simply because his mentality subverted the norm. The last lines of the track, “And if the band you’re in starts playing different tunes/I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon,” alludes to the personal experiences of band member Syd Barrett as a result of his mental illness. Often times, he would start playing a completely different song than the rest of the band during live performances. When looking deeper, the word ‘lunatic’ derives from the Latin word ‘lunaticus,’ meaning, “of the moon.” With this, the “dark side of the moon’ can be symbolically recognized as a place of residence for those who do not see the light of society. Therefore, Pink Floyd invites the listener to join them if they feel this way. The album concludes with “Eclipse.” The lyrics closely relate to the second track, “Breathe (In the Air).” “Eclipse” brings the album full circle by reusing the line “All that you touch and all that you see.” The finale song erupts in intense tones to remind the listener that your entire life is simply a result of all of your experiences. The album ends with the same heartbeat sample that it was introduced with. In regards to this song, Roger Waters makes the following comment: “I think it’s a very simple statement saying that all the good things life can offer are there for us to grasp, but that the influence of some dark force in our natures prevents us from seizing them." Overall, this can perhaps be interpreted by the means of the “us” versus “them,” in the sense that some are able to abide by society’s rules and seize great opportunities, while the “lunatics” simply cannot due to their differences, disparities, or resistance of society. "The Dark Side of the Moon" represents the timelessness of art and repetition of history, as the themes discussed in this album still ring true in modern society. In just 42 minutes, this album carries us through birth and death. It opens our eyes to the weight of our decisions, the deep construction of society, and the fragility of life by means of intentionally placed samples, philosophical lyrics, and the emotional weight of instrumental performances. They warn us of the risks of resistance, but console us by reminding us we are not living on the “dark side of the moon” alone. Each song can be interpreted on its own, but cohesively come together to guide us through one’s experience of living a life of so-called lunacy. Michael McCulla, 23, is a Real Estate Agent at 309 Property Management who lives in East Peoria. When asked which political party he falls under, he said he doesn’t prefer to put a label on it. “I really just look at each individual candidate on their own and which policies that they want to enforce that I support,” he said.
On election night, McCulla did not have any strong personal reactions to it. “The main thing I was looking at was the election numbers, results, and everything that was kind of popping up. I was more so just interested in the outcome of it.” Once the election was called, McCulla reacted with feelings of “interest and curiosity.” “I didn't necessarily like either candidate, so either way, I would have felt about the same. But I'm curious about what he [Biden] is going to be on the forefront of implementing,” he said. In the first 100 days that the Biden administration holds office, McCulla would like to see a change in how our country has responded to COVID-19. “What I would personally like to see would be a fairer implementation of the guidelines. I don't think that it's correct that small businesses have to suffer while everyone is still allowed to go into Walmart, Target, and all these big-box stores. But for some reason, mom and pop shops that would sell the same type of stuff is required, by law, to close. So, I'd like to see a change in that.” In a few words, sum up how you feel about our future under the new administration. “I’m not afraid, I’m not excited, I’m just ready to see what happens. I’m more interested to see what everybody as a population does as opposed to the president and administration.” Melissa Dessert, 52, is a Mental Health Therapist at Bradley University who lives in Peoria. Growing up with a grandmother who worked for the John F. Kennedy campaign and an uncle who worked as a congressman for Illinois’s 17th district, she said she has always been interested in politics. As a Democrat, her top political concerns revolve around women’s reproductive rights and LGBTQIA+ rights. “I didn't get married until I was in my 30s. My sister is lesbian, and I was always assertive, like, until she can marry, I'm not going to marry,” she said. When asked about how she felt on election night, Dessert said she prepared herself for the worst, as she did not do that in 2016. “I never believed for a million years that we would have voted a television personality into our presidency,” she said. “So, I went to bed prepared for Donald Trump to win.” When Joe Biden was officially called as the president elect, Dessert said “it felt like I had taken a deep breath that I had been holding since Tuesday. It felt like a huge weight taken off my shoulders that’s been there for four years.” Under the new administration, Dessert said she would like to see a plan to address COVID-19 in our country. “Other countries have clearly been able to collectively come together and address it, and I think they have had leadership and compassion that I don't think we've had from Donald Trump. I think Biden will lead with more compassion and understanding for those that we've lost.” In a few words, sum up how you feel about our future under the new administration. “I feel optimistically, cautiously hopeful.” Kristina Velpel, 20, a preschool director at Peoria Elite Gymnastics Academy and Early Childhood Education student at Illinois Central College, lives in Peoria Heights. Velpel’s interest in politics arose while taking a government class in high school, and she became even more passionate after taking a political science class last semester. Her beliefs “fall under the Conservative and Republican side of politics,” she said. Velpel said that she was a little nervous on election night; however, she was mostly at peace. “I prayed a lot about it, and I knew that whatever was going to happen was in God’s hands,” she said. After the results came in with Joe Biden as the president elect, she said her feelings did not change. “He is my president, so I will respect that, although I don't necessarily agree with everything that he stands for or with everything that I think will happen with the presidency,” she said. In the first 100 days under the new administration, there are two main issues she would like to see addressed, with the first being COVID-19. “It has gotten way out of hand. . .I would like to see how anybody can go at it with a different approach,” she said. The second issue she would like the Biden administration to address is our current prison systems. “I would like to see a complete change and reform. I strongly believe that what we are doing is not working. Instead of just being a detention center, I would like it to be more of a rehabilitation,” she said. In a few words, sum up how you feel about our future under the new administration. “I feel mostly at peace about it. I know everything's in God's hands, and He puts people in power for reasons, but I would just like to see a change.” In the midst of the Black Lives Matter Movement protests throughout Downtown Chicago, overnight ABC 7 News reporter Jessica D’Onofrio was awoken by a call in the middle of the night. She was assigned to report a looting situation at Potbelly on State and Lake Street around 3:30am on August 10. Instead of choosing fear, D’Onofrio saw this as a “once in a lifetime opportunity.” As the protests occurred, D’Onofrio and her team slowly ventured out a block in each direction in order to feel safe. In that moment, all D’Onofrio could think about was to simply describe what she was seeing, as this was a “highly volatile situation.” “I think we knew we were in danger 100% of the time. . . I was ducking out of the way as people were running by with arm loads of purses, clothes and windows breaking, and shots being fired,” D’Onofrio said. In D’Onofrio’s journalistic career of over 20 years, she said nothing could have prepared her for that moment. However, she felt relieved at the fact that nobody seemed to care that they were being filmed. “People were looking in the camera saying, ‘We're taking it all,’ or ‘This is what happens,’ things like that. So, there was this sense from the crowds that they didn't care. And I took that as a little bit of a relief,” D’Onofrio said. When asked why she agreed to report this situation, she attributed her father. “I grew up with a dad, who, when something happened down the street, he would say, ‘Put your shoes on, put your hat on, let's go and check it out,’ and I was like, ‘Yeah let's go see!’” D’Onofrio said. “I don't think I've ever lost that. . .I wanted people to see what I was seeing.” D’Onofrio was also raised by a mother who was strongly into politics and always had the news playing on the TV at home. She also participated in theatre throughout high school, which got her to be comfortable in front of a camera. With the combination of these things, D’Onofrio said that the fact she is a journalist now “makes complete and total sense.” Her journalistic journey did not begin in Chicago, however. She worked for news stations in Detroit, Mich.; Peoria, Ill.; Rockford, Ill; Indianapolis; and received her big break in Orlando, Fla. “I covered the Casey Anthony story in Orlando, Florida,” D’Onofrio said. “That was what I became known for. . .That landed me on Larry King and Nancy Grace. And the competition started taking notice that that was happening, and they said, ‘Where do you want to go?’ I said, ‘I want to go home to Chicago!” Although her journey was full of patience and trial, she assured to aspiring journalists that times have changed. “New tracks for younger journalists are much more accelerated and much quicker now. . . The best thing you can do is to hone all the digital knowledge that you have,” D’Onofrio said. For more information about Jessica D'Onofrio and her work, click here. |
authorHallie Newnam studied journalism at Columbia College Chicago. You can find her archived journalistic work here. |