We cried some of the hottest tears we ever cried at the Arctic Monkeys show

28 Feb 2023, what a night.

Making their debut for their Asia tour in Singapore on 28 Feb, the Monkeys had their Southeast Asian fans thirsting for their performance for well, decades. Finally having an Asia tour for their newest release “The Car,” many fans here have been anticipating their presence on our tropical shoreline for a good while.

The energy before the show was intense. Even though an official queue would only begin at 4.30pm, some had queued as early as 6 am, showing their commitment to the band. The crowd was a sea of black (and a lot of leather) showing that many stylish listeners were definitely taking note of Alex Turner’s fashion sense during the “AM” era.

There became a competitiveness to be at the front of the line and the tensions were kind of high and would only increase once security started opening a barrier for an official queue to begin. People started rushing and I got caught up in the run and eventually found myself stuck in a disgruntled mob. There was yelling, my heart was palpitating, and there was just an air of irritability. It didn’t feel like a good start for me personally.

But the amount of fans and dedication of the fans just proves how commendable it is for the band to have continued to not only stay relevant, but to surpass the peak of their popularity will nearly every album.

Once the two-hour wait to enter the venue was over, all hell broke loose. Security had a hard time holding people back because so many were dying to be at the front. There was running, pushing, your basic mob mentality characteristics. I was no longer that eager to be the front seeing I’d have to fight tooth and nail just to get there. I just wanted to enjoy myself, not join a wrestling match. Weirdly enough, my friend had managed to finesse her way near the stage with minimal struggle and had taken me along with her.

In typical rock ‘n’ roll fashion, the band came on stage 20 minutes late. Antsy fans were getting antsier as the crowd started getting tighter with every passing minute. While the tardiness wasn’t unexpected for me, the crowd’s vibe was jarring. That angst that they had suppressed for nearly half a day, immediately converted into vehement pushing and screaming at the sight of the silhouette of the band. It became crucial to stand my ground just so I wouldn’t lose my spot (or get my feet stepped on).

I seriously cannot emphasise enough the thirst this crowd had for Arctic Monkeys. I even overheard comments where some wanted to be close enough to the stage to feel Alex Turner’s sweat drip onto them.

Once the band appeared, they insightfully opened with Sculptures of Anything Goes. It felt like a good choice of an opening song as it gave us all a chance to collect ourselves after the few seconds of frenzy after the show started.

I wasn’t the biggest fan of “The Car” but that’s not to say it isn’t a good album. I just don’t think I was in a headspace for a slow, sultry, sound. But I must say, hearing it live does make it a *moment*. Everybody was momentarily calm, drinking in the performance. We were all collectively in awe that yes, Arctic Monkeys were performing live right in front of us.

And then Brianstorm began and I lost my mind. I tried to start a mosh, but nobody joined in (and in that moment, I was *that* crazy person at concerts). Everyone around me might have been too caught up in the moment and I might have been a little too aggressive as well as my friend’s belongings somehow ended up on the floor while I attempted to include her in my mini mosh. (I’m sorry to everyone that was around me but it was Brianstorm!) The thundery drums, the quick pace, and the fluttering lights were all signs for a mini mosh.

I’m the type to do my homework before a concert, I will study the setlist and do my best to have the songs ingrained into my brain. It just makes the show a lot more fun and fulfilling when I know most of the songs. But out of nowhere, they play Do Me A Favour. It was absolutely unexpected because I did not see this song listed on any of the band’s previous setlists. I gasped so hard and my eyes were wide from delighted disbelief that they would play my favourite song from my favourite album. It felt like a little gift from the band to me. Hearing the song live managed to capture what made Arctic Monkeys a household name, its heart-wrenching lyrics, deep rumbling drums, and a dramatic climax. The surprise of hearing the song made the show so much more special to me.

And of course, they had to play fan favourites (there would be riot if they didn’t). Do I Wanna Know, Arabella, Snap Out of It, Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High undoubtedly attracted the most energy from the audience. Although there wasn’t much movement, hearing others scream the songs word for word did make up for it slightly as hearing voices in unison can elevate any concert experience.

When the band played songs from “Humbug” like Crying Lightning and Pretty Visitors, there was a different ambience. The album definitely stands out for sounding a lot more ominous and dark as compared to rest of the band’s discography. The choruses while catchy, do lean on the odd side but brought out an eccentric side of Alex Turner on stage that was fun to watch.

From all the live performances that I’ve seen of the Arctic Monkeys, I’ve come to realise that Alex Turner isn’t the type of frontman who engages with the crowd with banter and conversation. I usually enjoy that during concerts because it allows me as an audience member to feel a little closer with the band. However, he has such an enigmatic stage presence that exudes an air of imperceptible prestige. He and his band have solidified that they are certified rock stars and rather than proving that through interactions with the audience, they let their effortless delivery of a truly memorable performance do all the talking.

When the band left the stage momentarily to build anticipation for their encore, fans were crying out for 505 as the song has just enjoyed a new lease of life on TikTok. The band did play the song at long last as an encore, but with a little twist. That slow sultry sound that accompanied “The Car,” was infused in this new rendition of 505. Some were kind caught off guard at the change (me too kinda) but it was honestly a refreshing take on a song that I’ve heard one too many times before on online spaces. And it’s not Arctic Monkeys if there’s no reinvention.

The band closed the show with with the best song choice, R U Mine? It was a last hurrah for everyone who had waited nearly their entire lives to see this band and to let loose to the music, put their phones down, and get moving. I thank those who did take the opportunity to live in the moment (as cliched as it sounds). A band as electric as Arctic Monkeys deserves a crowd that reciprocates in enthusiasm and excitement. The band delivered on their end, I just hope that we as concert-goers did too.

D-D-Down with the sickness of Phoebe Bridgers

Happy Valentine’s day to all the singles that attended Phoebe Bridgers’ show on 14 Feb 2023. I was one of them, but I didn’t feel so alone.

The singer-songwriter had sold out her 15 Feb show but when she released tickets for a second one for Valentine’s day, I felt like it was small little sign to bring myself out on date.

Held at the Esplanade theatre, it was a seated show which relieved me a lot of those pre-show queue anxieties. I was feeling a calm excitement that gave me a sense that it was going to be a memorable night. It was great to see the crowd because Phoebe’s singnature style with her skeleton outfits had such a sweet influence on her fans. Some had crocheted their own skeleton rib cage while others had the iconic skeleton graphic on their t-shirts. It felt like a camaraderie of like-minded souls.

Despite the sizeable location, the show turned out to be intimate, comfy, and cozy. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect Valentine’s day date other than Phoebe Bridgers herself.

Opening with System of A Down’s “Down With The Sickeness” and transitioning into “Motion Sickness,” you knew Phoebe had a sense of humour. Even though her discography mostly consists of slow ballads, she knew how to ramp up the audience with this opening song.

Her humour continued to charm the audience, and she had such a way of taking heartbreaking situations, one example being a strained relationship with a parent, and playfully reflecting back on it. Before beginning “Kyoto,” she asked the audience “who has a bad relationship with their dad?” and a majority of us, including myself, yelled back in agreement. She then dedicated the song to us and I giggled to myself about how universal it is to sometimes hate your father.

It was personally strange for me to be seated while hearing the song live because I instinctively wanted to jump, but I was too embarrassed to stand and didn’t want to block anyone sitting behind me. (A lesson to myself to just splurge on a Cat A ticket next time).

But the night took a gentler turn as Phoebe began to play songs from her latest album “Punisher.” It began to invoke all those emotions I had listening to the album on the train ride home from work, but tenfold. Phoebe’s voice although delicate, had enough depth to fill up the theatre. She had such control of her voice that there was never a moment where she faltered. Her talent made hearing her songs live phenomenally emotional to an extent where it was hard for me to hold back tears.

And even though “Punisher” has garnered her many accolades, she didn’t leave out any fan favourites from her album “Stranger In The Alps,” performing Smoke Signals and Funeral. (And it was amazing as well).

In between songs, the singer bantered with drummer Marshall Vore and it was refreshing as I always appreciate a little personal anecdote during live shows. It perks up the crowd’s energy especially after singing along to songs that just break your heart (*cough* Moon Song *cough*). Phoebe just seemed to have a natural charisma that could connect with anyone making the entire audience feel special regardless of the size of the crowd.

She made us feel even more special by taking the time to make her rounds with her audience during Scott Street, rubbing shoulders with the crowd. I myself being on the upper floors, could only look down and admire the special moment she shared with her audience. From a personal experience, it’s rare for an artist to do this so I was just kicking myself for not getting a Cat A ticket. Nonetheless, witnessing a moment like that really put meaning behind the lyrics of the song, “anyway / don’t be a stranger.”

She ended the night with I Know the End. She prefaced the song by welcoming us to yell and scream as loud and as long as we wanted. Once the song came to its climactic end, you couldn’t hear Phoebe scream but you couldn’t hear anything at all. Everything was drowned out by the hundreds of people screaming at the top of their lungs. I could barely even hear my own voice. It was cathartic and weirdly comforting. I could release whatever it was that I was suppressing but I wouldn’t be shamed for it because there were others doing the same. There was a protection there, at that moment, that whole night even. It reminded me how I’ve always felt that Phoebe Bridgers sang words that tugged at me and leered into the thoughts caged in the back of my mind. Hearing them out loud in the beautiful way that she performed them, allowed me to feel solace and strength in my tears rather than shame and weakness.

So, Happy Valentine’s Day to you and your emotions.

On My Loop: Snail Mail – Headlock

I remember saying in that in between emails that I would be writing the spare thoughts that I had about whatever music was listening to at the time or was moved by. Boy, did I underestimate my motivation to do so. Feeling mentally and physically drained at the end of each day is so recurring that it’s just the norm to me now. I used to listen to music and think about how I could describe the images I imagine or the way the sounds move me. I now listen to music as an opportunity for me to empty my mind on the train and release every single thought I had because frankly, my brain is exhausted.

But Snail Mail’s new album Valentine kind of changed that. I’ve been feeling a bit more emotionally vulnerable as I meet new people to broaden my social circle and there’ll be times where I get that little tingly excitement to a handful of encounters. Valentine felt like a good accompaniment to this period of my life. The whole album feels like a confession told in hushed tones, where Lindsey is huddled right up to you, trying to persuade and coax you to stay the night. Her feelings of desire and longing being poured out through the raspiness of her voice, added weight to her sincerity of wanting to be with you. You can’t help but blush hearing Lindsey profess her inner most affections on Valentine.

I feel especially blushed after hearing Headlock, one of my favourites from the album. Her voice on this particular track has just shown how much she’s grown from Lush, not just musically but also as a person learning to live her life intertwined with another. Relationships aren’t easy to navigate and a lot of confusion ensues, but Lindsey seems to embrace the both the charm and the chaos of forming a an important connection.

I grew addicted to hearing Lindsey’s voice crave for her partner. I can’t emphasise enough how much I enjoyed listening Lindsey pronounce the words “nirvana” and “lost,” and how much I tried to mimic that tone of voice because I loved it so much. Additional layering of her vocals with whispers echoing “are you lost in it too?” just made it that more intimate. With the added pianos almost emulating a fluttering heart, the guitars serving to be your mind trying to stay as grounded as possible, and the owl-esque synths nodding to the blooming of the relationship, the track encapsulates what it’s like to be young, irrational and infatuated.

I wasn’t surprised to find this song on my top five most played songs on my Spotify wrapped as I’ve definitely connected with the tenderness of the track, uncovering a new set of soft emotions that only surface when you’ve met someone new, exciting and seems perfect for you in some of the best ways.

On My Loop: Black Midi – bmbmbm

At this point of my life, I’m honestly just going through the motions and there’s a hollowness in my brain that’s being carved deeper since ambition and desire are no longer occupying the space. I’ve done a pretty good job of attempting to continuously be content with whatever comes my way and I really have no reason to be dissatisfied. Yet, I’m concerned with my own arc of self-development (like if my life were a movie, I left the theatre five minutes ago).

So as a means to distract myself from, myself, I like to go down a YouTube rabbit hole of alternative music. I usually start off with the weirdest most hipster-est band name I can find on my YouTube recommended page (or just go over to theneedledrop’s channel). Soon I encountered Black Midi’s live performances at Pitchfork. I was intrigued, the band name was weird and the title of the song was even weirder. When I saw the lead singer in all black and red sneakers, my intrigued peaked a little bit more.

The unconventionality of the song was something I haven’t encountered or even sought after since Death Grips (I only listen to Death Grips mash-ups btw because I’m still pretty basic and cannot fully appreciate them). The beat of ‘bmbmbm’ was ominous, demanding, and sounded like a giant coming towards me just to tell me off. The song made it feel that danger was apparent but I was shockingly ready to charge into it.

And then said lead singer started singing. And I was in hysterics. I loved it and I was amused by it, in the best possible way.

“She moves with a purpose, what a magnificent purpose.”

A simple lyric, delivered in every possible tone, pace and manner of speech, and I was completely entranced. The absurdity of the song just made me laugh a laugh that was like release from the other emotions that I’ve neatly organised in my brain for easy access in my everyday adult life. Especially in this particular live performance where the manic attitude of the singer just multiplies tenfold, two minutes into the song and my interest (and laughter) escalated along with it. I read a comment that it was akin to an auctioneer selling an item and I laughed a little too hard at that. Finding this live performance of Black Midi’s ‘bmbmbm’ felt like a jolt of energy that resurrected me from autopilot.

The song weirdly and impacted me till the point I was just singing this under my breath while washing the dishes. It was the combination of the blithe approach he sings the song and the meaning about the lyrics that I made up for myself that made it overall, kind of empowering (?) And the chaos that closed the song just felt cathartic to hear and watch and I felt like this song and its lyrics was a much needed change in my currently static existence.

I will certainly be moving with a purpose, a magnificent purpose, from now until my autopilot comes back on.

Phoebe Bridgers – Punisher

I’m employed, cue Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now By The Smiths. I joke, the job’s great and I think something that I’ve been looking for without even realising it. I know it looks like I’ve set my sights on becoming some sort of online music writer by looks of the of the content I’ve produced so far. But since starting this job as a research officer (I’m a a glorified secretary let’s face it), I’ve learned that I do want to write, but I want to write about things that are meaningful to me. My words may not have a wide reach of thousands of readers, but it helps to read my own words about the music that has impacted me.

This job has so far allowed me to explore that passion on my own time with the flexibility it provides me. I get to learn other skills with this job and still look back at writing with joy and without the undertone of stressful deadlines, clicks garnered or money made. It took a lot of convincing myself that even though I didn’t land the job of dreams where I get to write about music and concerts, I’m thankful that I still get some time to type away whatever my heart desires.

I had this epiphany while on the train, trying my best to beat the rush hour as I have the freedom to go home as early as I please (but I come in early to make up for it). I was on a relatively empty train (I mean, I beat the rush hour) and wanted shut my eyes after staring at the computer for a whole day. I put on Phoebe Bridgers’ Punisher after hearing rave reviews. I expected an indie alt rock album and was waiting in anticipation for something that would sound kind of like Modest Mouse or something. Instead I heard something gentle, slow-paced and subtle. I’ll admit that I wasn’t really a fan on my first listen of the album which in retrospect is probably because of the the indie alt rock expectations I had.

So I put it on again on the next train ride home, eyes closed and all. I let go of my expectations, listened closely and felt strange.

I got goosebumps, a lump in my throat and just a tinge teary-eyed when I heard the line “I love a good place to hide in plain sight,” in the song Punisher. Personally, I thought it was something about wanting to be noticed without having to stand out from the crowd and I’ve had that sentiment of wanting to be seen for being the person I am when I am undisturbed and falling silently into the background.

It was this line that made me want to write about this album and the period of time its accompanying me through. It was this line that reminded that I haven’t written anything in a long while and my lazy ass had to do something other than key in numbers on excel. I was moved to the written word and Phoebe Bridger’s song Punisher, kind of gave me the nudge I needed.

I realised that in between waiting for emails and writing emails, I had some spare moments here and there to put together the thoughts and sentences that were just lingering in my mind about the album Punisher.

Now even though the first track that I’ve mentioned is Punisher, the first two opening songs Garden Song and the album’s single Kyoto are not tracks that I’ve just forgotten by the way. Garden Song introduces the album’s soft approach to dealing with difficult emotions really well. The occasional deep alto that sings along with her intrudes in no way, and instead exhibits the heaviness of the turmoil Bridgers has gone through and is now comfortable enough to accept as part of her history.

And Kyoto definitely grew on me as a stand out track with it’s pop rock sensibilities amongst Bridger’s more, I would say, ethereal pop (?) songs. Despite being a cheery listen, Bridgers just knows how to make you feel a sense of heartache with lyrics like “I wanted to see the world / through your eyes until it happened / then I changed my mind.” Come on Bridgers, my heart needs mending now.

Chinese Satellite was probably the most goosebump-inducing track. The violins dancing along with the metallic licks of the guitars that makes itself sound like a travelling satellite. It’s one of my favourite tracks with the magical feeling that I just get hearing the twinkling guitars right after she sings “you were screaming at the Evangelicals.” The very end where she pleads “I want to go home,” and everything seems to be in disarray, is where I just wanted to hug her because, me too.

As Savior Complex played, my head played out two figures dancing in a fully bloomed garden under the night sky. There’s something blissfully melancholic about the way Bridgers incorporates violin so beautifully into her tracks, giving way for my imagination to conjure images of a sad waltz amongst flowers that have been tinted grey by the darkness and the moonlight.

ICU is what I initially thought I would hear more of this album (hence, my first reaction), but with that little Bridgers spin. It has this killer line that jumped out at me – “I hate your mom / I hate when she opens her mouth”. We all know a mom be it our own or in-law that we drown out because their words, well, they kind of hurt.

The closing track I Know The End has so much anticipation building and it draws you in, somehow excited for what oblivion would look or feel like. When the anticipation pays off with these daunting instrumentals and a scream that should incite fear, the trumpets made it seem that it we should be reveling in our upcoming demise. The collective capitulation to something or someone descending upon us in declaring the end is near without fear or reluctance just felt… right. But Bridgers always manages to bring some humour into so hearing her playfully yell into the mic at the end of the track was delightful.

The entire album plays out as if you’re watching a sunset over the beach. The warm orange glow glistening over water landscapes underscored by the knowledge that darkness will dawn upon us. You get goosebumps listening to her bare it all out with her incredibly delicate voice which is surrounded by instrumentals that feel grand, but never overpower or conquer the emotions in her vocals.

I know I used the word “goosebump” a lot in this particular post, but it speaks true to the experience I had while listening to Punisher for the second time, on the way home, pre-rush hour, under the yellow hue of the golden hour. These songs grew on me like vines, taking a hold of my mind with the poetic way it handles these difficult feelings we humans tend to take on unknowingly. I love albums that make me feel a little less alone about the things I feel or the thoughts I have and Punisher is one that will be a long-time companion for me.

Big Noble – First Light

I’m a big fan of Interpol and have always been inclined to check out their solo work or other work outside of the band. I’ve heard about how lead singer Paul Banks has had a hand in various projects and some of them were… interesting to say the least (a collaboration with Wu Tang member? Sure why not). But they never were able to stand up to the band’s discography and it may be because that I wasn’t entirely familiar with the different music realms that he decided to focus into.

However, I was esepcially excited to learn that, Daniel Kessler, the lead guitarist of the band had delved into a genre that I was familiar with and would say is much more easily-digestable for me as a listenner. His ambient/atmospheric project with fellow sound designer Joseph Fraioli (someone who I’ve yet to familiarise myself with), was honestly something I needed during this trying time. I wanted to listen to something that was along the lines of those “relaxing rain sounds” videos on YouTube but with a bit more thought put into it.

As I was immersing myself into the headspace of the album, I realised there is an extreme vastness to the sound that I think is very hard to achieve (the only other song I think comes close to that feeling is Hans Zimmer’s and Radiohead’s “Ocean Blue”, but I’ll admit that my knowledge on atmospheric projects are limited). Big Noble managed to layer their music with an echo, that when combined with the intricate sounds of everyday electronics that have been composed into the song with meticulous intent, and combined with Kessler’s signature guitar work, it lets you imagine what it might feel like to be basically Sandra Bullock in that movie Gravity – being simultaneously wonderstruck and terrified of space.

The album is an exact definition of atmospheric, it is light, celestial and there’s that feeling where you know how the vastness of space engulfs you because it is the epitome of infinity? That’s what First Light achieves by encompassing you in what feels like a journey. You bob along on a cyberpunk ship like those in Treasure Planet and you sit in awe at the scale of the universe. It’s hard to pinpoint this ambient album to just being merely calming or relaxing, it pushes you forward with an urgency at times, congratulating you for your triumph of just moving through the motions of life, because that itself is sometimes a pretty difficult thing to do.

On My Loop – Come On! Feel the Illinoise!

The pandemic is still ever-present and I am still ever-anxious about a myriad of things, unemployment, the fate of the world etc.. I’ve been actively trying to get out of my head and forget the bleak things my mind holds on to, and much like any other person, music usually helps me cope (and a little personal writing project doesn’t hurt either).

I’ve been late to the party on many bands and albums so I’ve made it a point to visit vital albums that have been critically-acclaimed or musicians that proven their high stature through their consistently well-made and innovative albums.

I was having difficulty falling asleep one night and needed something soothing that could hopefully calm me. Sufjan Stevens’ Carrie & Lowell came to mind (mostly because of the absolutely polarizing review theneedledrop did of the album).

Let me admit that for the longest time I’ve mistaken Sufjan Stevens as the son of Cat Stevens and am embarrassed that I only corrected this fact a couple of years ago when I heard “Fourth of July” playing in a cafe one day.

When I went home to hear the song while reading the lyrics, I’ll never forget the emotions I had in those few minutes. I was gutted at the tale of his mother’s fate and her complicated relationship with her children, that Stevens had heart-wrenchingly chronicled in song. To this day I cannot listen to the song without tears in my eyes (it has also made me learn to appreciate my own mom when at times, it’s tough to do so).

Carrie & Lowell is a beautifully intricate album where Steven’s vulnerability is raw and leaves you to reflect on your personal relationships (its delicate sound also helped me sleep a little better that night). But I wanted to hear songs that were akin to his hit single “Chicago” so I naturally I went to google “sufjan stevens best albums” to which I was told that Illinois was arguably the singer-songwriter’s best (I didn’t say this, the internet did).

It took six paragraphs for me to finally talk about the song that I have been playing on loop, but I knew I needed to lay out some context for myself to fully understand why this song currently has such a presence for me. It is a grandiose harmony of instruments that carried a dynamism that I never really associated with Stevens since my introduction to him was “Fourth of July.”

Part I of “Come on! Feel the Illinoise!” is upbeat and has the energy of a whole marching band that when intertwined with Steven’s gentle vocals and the rapid back-up vocals, you begin to feel the atmosphere of attending a carnival with a close friend whose disclosing some trivia about commerce and its aftereffects. Listening to Part I of “Come on! Feel the Illinoise!” and its unique sound was a resurgence of an excitement I once had with writing about the things I found great about amazing songs.

One of the things that really excited me about the song is the bridge between Part I and Part II. It manages to encompass the different feelings and nuances in the sounds of both parts so well and made the transition of the song quite remarkable. I attribute this to the violin’s comforting melody that I just gravitated towards. It added so much to the theme of Part II of entering into Stevens’ dream just as Carl Sandburg did. I don’t think I have to mention how his vocals are dream-like in and of itself but I’ll mention it anyway – Stevens’ vocals are dreamy.

What really makes the song a home run is the extremely catchy melody of the back-up vocals in Part II. It almost acts as the chorus of a Greek tragedy, reiterating Stevens’ inner sentiments. It was easy to connect with Stevens’ and his thoughts of creation versus imitation, good versus evil and how his surroundings has a large influence on him be it negative or positive. Communicating them through the chorus (both as in a song and as in the Greek tragedy’s chorus), let the ideas come through with a softer blow rather than an overwhelming one because I know from first-hand experience that thinking about all of this heavy topics can lead to an unwarranted headache.

It really hit hard hearing the lyrics of Part II, recognising myself in Stevens’ predicaments with the world that was larger than himself while having concerns about his own contributions to society. At least it was these predicaments that I personally recognised in the song but I acknowledge that Stevens’ songwriting is layered and can consist of many interpretations. But I mostly connected with the song’s frustration with the world’s obsession with consumerism, wanting to be altruistic on that front, but still having the desire to focus on your own (possibly) empty ambitions.

On My Loop – How to Disappear Completely

I’m feeling disconnected, detached and helpless. I’ve been at home trying to come to terms with the devastating after-effects this pandemic might have on everyone. Each time the thought enters my mind of the hunger, pain and fear everyone but me might face, I become overwhelmed. I’m extremely thankful to be in the position that I am, merely looking for work instead of my next meal. I do my best to contribute a little here and there however I can but there’s this heaviness that just won’t leave. There’s always a lump in my throat whenever I hear the news and I just can’t bear hearing it anymore.

Cooped up at home, I’m grateful to have a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in but the only connection I have to the outside world is through the negativity I see on the news. I no longer feel optimistic to go outside when I have an irrational fear hovering my every step. But staying at home has its own downfalls as much as I’m thankful for it. Let’s face it, tensions sometimes run high when you’re sharing the same space with your family. I love them but they sometimes make my heart ache and it’s hard not to feel down around them and the things they say.

Carrying all of these strong emotions, the only things I can do is breathe and have some perspective on the privilege I have. Maybe feeling grateful enough will end my emotional (and frankly, irrational) turmoil. I’m not proud of these feelings but I nonetheless have them. The paradox of feeling anxious and hating myself for feeling this way with no justified reason is becoming exhausting.

I’ve turned to this song a lot during this time. I’ve been listening to it more often these days because for me, it has a melody that sort of emulates the action of taking a deep breath. It has a combination of lightness and complete dread. You feel a sense of freedom through its simplicity of instrumentation and Yorke’s elongated vocals but you soon find yourself experiencing fretfulness and nerves. There’s an eloquent combination in the song that leaves you flying but always in suspense of a crash landing. I myself would like to disappear completely and do away with a worthless existence but I know by doing so, it won’t solve anything.

On My Loop – reflection

I am currently unemployed after graduating university in July. This special situation of mine has kind of allowed to me to read my past posts with a different sort of sentiment. I no longer feel as safe or as sheltered as I did when I wrote these posts. Without the safety net of school, I’m beginning to see myself as inadequate and lacking in skill.
As much as I flinch at the thought of how I was before (pretty pompous to be frank), I don’t exactly have the heart to edit any of the posts I’ve written as much more wide-eyed and hopeful person. To me, the posts somewhat serve as a time capsule for me to look back as how I’ve progressed from a complete try-hard to less of a try-hard.

I started writing about music because there was no one else around me that seemed to enjoy songs or bands I was listening to at the time. I tried to get into whatever was on the Top 40s but I vivdly remember sighing at songs like “Like a G6.” There is good pop music out there, I won’t deny that, but I never really had any real connections with the top hits. It was hard to find people who liked what I was into and even when I did, I just couldn’t ‘click’ with them (it was probably because me, socialising isn’t something i’m terribly good at). It was easy to feel left behind just because of the lack of common interests.

I brushed these feelings aside by writing about something I enjoyed. Soon enough I took delight in just documenting my feelings and the experiences I had in the moment of listening to my favourite song or witnessing my favourite musicians on stage. This became an outlet where I could find positivity, exploring ways I could communicate the happiness I get when listening to music (and for my lazy ass to just feel productive).

But there was a conundrum. The more I wrote, the more I felt that I had no place in this field. The problems began to be more glaringly obvious; this was a niche career, there were people who were more talented than me, more educated, more connected, more cultured, just more. Every post became a reminder of my limited ability to write and the absence of any hidden potential.

I’ve had this suspicion about myself ever since I can remember but after graduating, the feelings of inferiority intensified and shutting down felt like the only method of erasing all my fears. I wanted to do nothing, chase nothing, think about nothing. Nothingness would be a temporary mute button on the deafening realities of my inadequacy.

For a while, it worked. All I had to focus on were what TV shows or movies I could watch next. But before long, the people around me would question me about my plans for the future, nudge me about what my ambitions were or wonder what the hell I was doing with my life. I had no answers and even if I did before, they collapsed under the doubt I held for myself.

I’ll be honest, in this period of time, not a lot of songs appealed to me. I couldn’t really listen to certain songs because it didn’t parallel with what was going on with me, no matter how catchy it was. I wanted songs that validated my emotions since it was something I couldn’t easily escape from. I couldn’t talk to anyone about this so I looked for someone to speak to me.

I stumbled upon Fleet Foxes’ Helplessness Blues (I’m late to the party, I know) after reading a YouTube comment commending the way it articulated the anxieties of 20-somethings. When I listened to it, I felt recognised. I haven’t really delved into indie folk but the lyrics to “Helplessness Blues” that displayed idleness yet determination could not have been conveyed better through any other genre.

Something about the indie folk sound forces me to make the association between the genre and triumph. The country-esque vocals alluding to wisdom and hopefulness but the lyrics are contemplating the challenge of overcoming an inevitable impasse in life.

The more songs I discovered, the more people I found that felt as menial as me. Songs that I remembered to be just mere angst anthems, became songs with a depth that I could only connect with at this point of time where I’m hollow of purpose and worth. Cloud Nothings’ “Stay Useless used to be a song I would listen to on the way to school because I was unmotivated to finish my assignments. Now, I listen to it to channel my irritation with those mistaking my decision to take a break with laziness or lack of ambition. I hate that sometimes I internalise those comments as well, to the point that these mixed feelings that I have while being unemployed give me headaches and anxiety – am really taking a break or am I just lazy? am I resting my mind or am I just afraid of growing up?

I constantly go back and forth between these two sentiments and I’ve wasted mental energy on these dilemmas. Listening to this song alleviates some of that restlessness and feels like a much needed validation to ease my negative thoughts.

Jeff Rosenstock’s “Nausea” has been a companion for me in this pressuring period as well. His sound feels like calculated chaos, high energy that initially comes across as reckless but actually has a strong purpose. In this song, he eloquently depicts procrastination, unproductiveness and the guilt we harvest while we continue our bad habits. By the end of the song, it almost sounds like a celebration that he had to end. The false reassurance we tell ourselves that “the future will work itself out” starts to crumble and we’re left in limbo of being a grown up that hasn’t actually grown up. Occupying a confused headspace myself, I could connect with the repeated last words of “I got so tired of discussing my future,” (often repeating what my life plan is with friends and relatives, being tired of a question that I still had no concrete answers to). As he chants what could be the inner thoughts of every young adult, the pace of the song slows down and the piano keys ushers an exiting tone of disappointment with one’s self. At least I wasn’t alone in feeling this way.

These songs have given me relief to the never-ending thoughts I have in my head that are provoked by the never-ending questions and comments about my life and future. However, the relief is temporary and the fear is constant. But as long as I know there are others that have felt the same that I have and come out of the other side just a little bit better, I might just be okay.

Everbody Wants To Love Japanese Breakfast

Fronted by Michelle Zauner, this little indie rock outfit managed to inch bit by bit into my heart with her Soft Sounds from Another Planet. The album was initially a nice accompaniment while I placed my focus on my other work since its “soft sounds” were just a nice touch of calm that didn’t distract me too much. But Zauner has a knack for making songs that were a tug on the heartstrings with these light jangly guitars that felt like illuminating fairy lights. Her hard demeanour might just say otherwise but Zauner’s personal and tragic experiences fed into the tenderness of this album. Her lyrics narrating her coping with the loss of her mother in “The Body is a Blade” was sometimes devastating for me listen to when I did pay attention instead of tuning it out as background music. This album became a lot more sentimental through consecutive listens when I decided to shift my focus from work to Zauner’s music.

Making her debut in Singapore I figured it’d be a fun night out from being cooped up at home for a little too long and she did not disappoint. The singer-songwriter definitely has her own style and point of view, donning a pink ruffled dress. The statement piece echoed something of a bubblegum victorian. The girl isn’t shy from expressing herself which showed on stage as her presence was felt all the way to the back of the room. She knew how to work the stage and the audience, with and without the guitar. I honestly have an affinity for a frontman with great stage presence and who’s pretty comfortable with audience banter, always makes a show special to me.

By the second song, I was already moved by Zauner’s lyrics. “In Heaven” pictures her mother in the best place of the afterlife and her imagination of her mother’s whereabouts pushed me to reflect my own relationship with my mother for some reason. Zauner manages to put a strong a face on stage, probably from having her own form of closure with the matter. I however, was close to bawling by myself in the back of the room.

Fan favourite “Boyish” definitely got the audience’s pipes going, me included. The slow number had the entire room shaking with people screaming the lyrics “Love me / love me.” That sentiment of wanting  feelings reciprocated is just universally identifiable and Zauner hit that note with this song. Hearing it live with other people singing along just made being alone feel less lonely. These emotions just kept on coming as she began to sing “The Body Is a Blade,” another one that hits home about the absence of her mother, it was becoming increasingly difficult to not cry in public. The singer has such a captivating aura with her slow songs that she could hush the entire room to complete silence as she sings “Till Death” with just a soft melancholy. I’d say that these gentle and poignant songs are Zauner’s strong suit and were kind of my highlight of the night.

Zauner fed off of the crowd’s enthusiasm in her early favourite from Psychopomp,“Everybody Wants To Love You.” A majority of Zauner’s songs might only push a person to sway or tap their feet but this was a great opportunity for anybody that night to work off those extra calories and jump their heart out. Whoever didn’t, really missed out as Zauner bounced from both sides of the stage in her eye-catching outfit, just revelling in the zeal of the audience.

Japanese Breakfast put on quite a show, so much so that and encore was immediately requested once they stepped off stage. Zauner delivered with her rendition of The Cardigans’ “Lovefool” and the audience ate it up. I guess young adults really just want their feelings reciprocated (we’d yell anything that echoes our woes of a loveless life). Zauner and her band closed the show with “Machinist” and that was a just a fantastic way to end the night. She made the idea of falling in love with a robot seem so romantic with this little jazz-esque, electronic number which just solidified the night as an unforgettable one.