The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, March 27, 2019 — 5A
What’s louder — the music or the
man? The more appropriate question
in today’s digital age would be:
What’s louder, the music or the media
surrounding the musician?
There is no lack of dialogue when
it comes to the increasingly scary
power media holds to dictate what
we listen to — consistently, Buzzfeed
articles are titled something along
the lines of “How Social Media
Has Changed The Music Industry.”
The discourse is even more present
around buzzwords like “DIY artist.”
What’s more interesting, however,
is the development in the last couple
of years, wherein an artist’s media
presence has become quintessential.
It’s an age when listeners do not just
subscribe to the music; they subscribe
to the media representation of the
art simultaneously or before they
subscribe to the sound. Yes, it’s a long-
standing trend — a band like KISS
isn’t just a sound, it’s a phenomenon.
However, looking at 2019 thus far
and looking towards the future of
music, listeners are not even aware
of the subconscious associations
and characterizations that develop
the full image of an artist’s sound
based on the content we interact
with — when you listen to a song on
Spotify you are not listening solely
to the song, but rather the implied
characterizations of the sound based
on the media we subscribe to. Even
scarier is the fact that the artists we
react to only reach our ears because
media launched that person or group.
Today, media dominates every
aspect of the human experience, so
much so that almost every emerging
artist only breaks through when
accompanied with viral YouTube
videos, an impressive twitter or
Instagram, a Hollywood presence,
or something along those lines.
It is almost impossible to launch
yourself as an artist unless you have
accompanying media that creates
a distinct vibe around your work.
The examples are endless: Clairo
establishes herself as queen of teenage
nostalgia with 29 million views on
her hit YouTube video “Pretty Girl.”
The crowds go apeshit over Maggie
Rogers when a video of a master class
with Pharrell Williams goes viral.
Artists like Troye Sivan and Conan
Gray each had fully established
aesthetic, lifestyle YouTube channels
with millions of subscribers before
launching into the music scene.
Most notably, the band Half
Alive had practically no listens
until the launch of their beautifully
coordinated “Still Feel” music video.
Half Alive is a perfect example of
the idea that the media experience
of music is absolutely essential to
listening power. No longer does
the music come first, which is then
supported
by
interviews,
“Tiny
Desk”
performances
and
social
media that promotes the band and
establishes viewer connection. Now,
the media comes first. A viewer
clicks on a “recommended” post or
video, and they love the sound, yes,
but there’s a space in the back of
their brains that becomes obsessed
and connected with the media (the
beautiful appearance, the swaggy
persona, etc.) I like to call it “The
Mesh.” It’s an interlaced structure of
appearance, dancing, lighting, vibe,
the mannerisms and the slang. Yes,
the sound is a part of this mesh, but
it’s not necessarily the leading aspect.
This idea of the “mesh” that
lies in our subconscious came to
the forefront of my brain when
listening to a new favorite band of
mine, Wallows. I found the band
through Netflix. The lead singer
of Wallows is Dylan Minette, who
stars in hit Netflix series “13 Reasons
Why” as Clay Jensen. Even if you
haven’t watched “13 Reasons Why,”
there’s a high chance you’ve seen
the face: He’s the center of multiple
memes on twitter, Reddit threads
and even recognizable for his early
appearances on shows like “Drake
& Josh,” “Lost” and “Scandal.” This
led to a personal investigation of
Wallows’s rise to fame — did they
gain most of their popularity from
Dylan’s fame? Most certainly. Are
they still extremely deserving of that
recognition? Most certainly. Their
sound is super cool.
In almost every interview with
Wallows, Minette is asked about
his role in “13 Reasons Why.”
Specifically,
Minette
told
Paste
Magazine: “The show that I’m on,
I’m under a contract on that and stuff
and that’s something that I got to
do and that’s cool and whatever but
just anytime we have we are doing
this non-stop because it’s what we
wanna do.” Social media is usually
made up of at least half self-conscious
representation. For Minette, he has
no control over constant comments
on all forms of Wallows social media
stating sentiments such as: “Severely
disappointed their fan base is a bunch
of 13 Yr. old fan girls who watch
Thirteen Reasons Why, ruined the
concert.”
This
trend
comes
from
a
longstanding notion in music. When
you go to a concert and you gain
face-to-face recognition with the
artist, you listen much more. For
me, going to a concert made me feel
like the artist was mine. The media
surrounding the artist is that same
feeling: They become yours when the
content you receive each day fully
develops the vibe of who they are.
All of this being said, there is
a strong counter example: Frank
Ocean. This is a man whose music 100
percent comes before the media. He
is a minimalist in all media aspects,
yet his music is an inspiration to
the majority of emerging artists
today because he’s a musical genius.
Although Frank’s emergence into
recognition does not fall into media
trends or time frame I speak of,
even he acknowledges media’s role
in creating dialogue, fully shaping
how we see artists and how we see
their music. In a recent interview
with GQ, he states: “I feel like there
was dissonance between how I was
seen by the audience and where I
was actually … But there’s also the
idea of dialogue and discourse and
conversation — like theater where the
audience can interrupt you versus the
television.” Frank goes on to explain
how he feels the way he is seen is
not even close to correct, and it’s
still not correct, which went into his
thought process behind making his
Instagram public. But he steps into
the public Instagram scene, because
media gives you a step towards
control of developing the idea around
an artist. Frank is a rare case of a
music God who doesn’t need any
source of media to launch his sound,
but even he recognizes the media
landscape of establishing how you
are represented.
Visual press is everything. To
listeners everywhere: The content
we view each day is the sound.
Whether Wallows likes it or not, the
back of the brain association with
cutie “Clay Jensen” from Selena
Gomez-produced “Thirteen Reasons
Why” is an integral undercurrent
of Wallows’s sound, and there’s no
avoiding it. Think about your favorite
music, and think about what’s behind
the love of it.
Do we love sound or media?
Alex Honnold is one of the best
rock climbers in the world. Alex
Honnold regularly eats directly
out of the pan using a spatula as a
spoon. Alex Honnold is a giant, a
visionary, a profoundly inspiring
person whose story reminds me
of all the good human beings are
capable of. Alex Honnold is a big
dumb buffoon who downplays
every insane thing he does to the
point that fellow climbers call
him Alex “No Big Deal” Honnold.
The boy has layers.
Some background: Alex is
having a bit of a moment right
now. You might have seen him on
viral YouTube videos, breaking
down climbing scenes in movie
based on realism. Or maybe you’ve
seen his TED Talk. Or maybe you
saw “Free Solo,” the documentary
film about his 2017 ropeless ascent
of Yosemite’s El Capitan Freerider
route that recently won an Oscar.
He’s arguably the most visible and
popular climber in mainstream
media since Edmund Hillary
himself.
His free solo of El Cap is one
of the most singular and mind-
blowing accomplishments I’ve
seen a single person achieve in
my lifetime. The wall is nearly
3000 feet of sheer granite, and
Freerider is a notoriously difficult
path to the top (rated 5.13c in
climbing circles, meaning that
even with a rope and protective
equipment, people very rarely ((if
ever)) manage to climb it without
falling). It’s hard to put into words
the magnitude of what it means
to climb this thing with nothing
but a chalk bag strapped around
the waist — when Alex completed
his climb, a lot of people in the
climbing community compared
it to the moon landing. The New
Yorker put it simply when they
covered
the
event:
“Another
passage can be written in the
annals of human achievement.”
Like
most
people
who
encounter Alex’s work, I’m pretty
much endlessly inspired by him.
His achievements induce awe,
in the most biblical sense of the
word. It’s impossible to be clever
or cynical when confronted with
the image of a person dangling by
two fingers 2000 feet above the
ground, grinning as though there’s
no place he’d rather be (spoiler:
there isn’t). Alex Honnold, for
me, has been a breath of fresh
air, an antidote to the poison
that radiates so much media in
2019. The appeal is simple: He
found what he loves most in the
world, and dedicated his life to its
ruthless and relentless pursuit.
In the process of living his life
exactly the way he wanted to,
he changed a sport forever and
redefined the boundaries of fear.
In his book, “Alone on the
Wall,” Alex explains that he
primarily gets asked two types
of questions: Why he free solos
(climbing with absolutely no
ropes, gear, or aid of any kind),
and if he’s scared — both of which
are polite ways of asking if he
realizes how easily he could die
at any minute. To respond, he has
developed a strange but weirdly
comforting
math
surrounding
risk
and
consequence
over
the years. In his mind, he’s
always climbing well within his
comfortable range of abilities,
so even though free soloing has
high consequence (falling and
dying), the risks for him are low.
He’s worked methodically over
15 years of climbing to expand
the range of experiences within
which he doesn’t feel fear.
All of this strikes me as a
convoluted way of saying that
he’s reached a level of excellence
in
skill
that
makes
failure
increasingly less likely. You could
take that as a certain modicum
of arrogance — and you probably
should — but it’s an arrogance that
works for him and that’s allowed
him to do incredible things. I also
take that response with a grain of
salt — “Alone on the Wall” is Alex
presenting himself carefully to his
readers. Other climbers are quick
to call bullshit on his convoluted
risk/reward
equations,
noting
that he can’t control everything,
that it’s a matter of when, not if,
he falls.
Alex would be the first to
tell you that he’s thought about
this, and considered it deeply.
He explains in his book that he
doesn’t understand the point of
living a life without passion, and
if that mortality is inevitable
anyway, why not go out doing
what he loves. But he’s also clear
about the fact that he’s not a
daredevil — he loves living and
loves climbing, and he’s said many
times in his book that he steers
clear of any kind of thrill-seeking.
He writes: “There is no adrenaline
rush. If I get an adrenaline rush,
it means that something has gone
horribly wrong.” He’s not trying
to get away with anything —
instead he’s on a lifelong project to
slowly and incrementally become
a braver, better person.
When the filmmakers asked
him in “Free Solo” why he lives
the way he does, he gave an
answer that’s been ringing in
my head since I first heard it
months ago (and the answer that
I can only imagine has haunted
him years). He puts it simply: “If
you’re looking for perfection, free
soloing is as close as you can get.”
He’s not wrong. One mistake
and it’s all over. And let’s be
absolutely clear here: A “mistake”
in soloing is placing a thumb and
index finger a millimeter too
close together. Or letting his eyes
wander from the rock in front of
him for exactly one second. It’s
not just focus or physical stamina
that’s required to free solo at
Alex’s level — it’s absolute clarity.
While he’s climbing, Alex is
paying attention to the movement
of every muscle and sinew in his
body. He knows exactly what
he’s doing and exactly who he
is. All the philosophical things
that for most people remain
conceptual — self-actualization,
self-sufficiency, staying present
— aren’t an abstract for Alex
Honnold. They’re a matter of life
or death.
It’s easy to get caught up
in the grand scale of all of his
achievements — the legendary
free solos he has pioneered, the
sweeping expeditions in Chad,
Morocco, Alaska and Patagonia,
the multiday big wall linkups in
which he shattered every known
speed record in Yosemite. But
despite all that, it’s the minutiae
of his work that I find the most
fascinating, because it’s clear that
the details are what his survival
relies on. He dreams big, yes, but
what differentiates Alex from
others with big abstract goals is
his ability to break down every
dream into its components and
create a multistep plan as to how
to achieve them.
Case in point: In both “Alone
on the Wall,” and in the film,
Alex talks about his feet a lot. In
a conversation in the film with
fellow
legendary
free
soloist
Peter Croft, the two talk about
their favorite part of soloing: how
firmly rooted their feet get in the
wall when they’re in the zone.
These are two men who’ve scaled
massive peaks and shattered
records, but notice where they
find the real joy — in the process,
in the component parts of a big
achievement. They don’t focus
on the thrill of reaching the
top, or the daredevil moments
in which they almost died, but
on the feeling of rootedness. In
the book, he describes feeling
perfectly planted when he’s high
on a wall, climbing with complete
certainty that he won’t fall. “It’s
that certainty,” he writes, “that
keeps me from falling.”
There’s a lot to learn from Alex
Honnold, but to me that’s the
biggest piece — the ability to feel
rooted anywhere you go, to build
yourself a place where you’re
certain you belong. Alex has made
a living by making a home out of
some of the most hostile places on
earth — deserts and tundras and
the tallest peaks in the world. He’s
alone up there on the wall, yes, but
when he’s up there he’s entirely
complete. His solitude while
climbing is pure, because when
he’s up there, he needs no one and
nothing but himself. It’s a quiet
confidence that sustains him, a
wholehearted belief in himself,
his hands and his strength.
When I watch Alex Honnold
climb, it makes me crave that
perfect solitude, the simultaneous
rootedness and weightlessness he
experiences when the sum total
of his existence in that moment
hinges on putting one foot in front
of the other. Alex describes that
feeling as ‘perfection.’ But I like
to think of it as something a little
more complicated, and a little
more human: pure and absolute
joy. We sometimes conflate being
alone with being lonely, but in
doing so, we forget how magical
perfect quiet can be, how good it
is to be alone. Feet firmly planted,
one on front of the other — you
always have everything you need
to create something beautiful.
To Alex Honnold, the only
man to belay into my heart
YOUTUBE
BOOKS NOTEBOOK
Initially, Andrew Bird’s
latest album, My Finest Work,
felt
lackluster.
Granted,
when
it
comes
to
the
musical stylings of Andrew
Bird, “easy listening” isn’t
his forte. I don’t mean
“easy listening” as in chill
relaxation, but rather as low-
brain-energy music.
The type of music
you play when you
trudge home world-
weary at the end
of the week; the
music
you
listen
to when you want
to turn your brain
off. At first listen, I
made the mistake
of
sitting
down
to a musical meal
with Andrew Bird
in the midst of a
week’s
whirlwind.
Unsurprisingly,
my brain balked at
Bird’s demand for
undivided
focus
and
attention;
multilayered lyrics
and symbolism were
drowned in my mind’s futile
search for a catchy, jaunty
tune.
Again, that’s not to say
Andrew Bird’s music is not
catchy, or that it isn’t suited
for a lazy, sunny day. It is all
those things, but also much,
much more. And that “more”
is where the true power of
the album arises.
With
his
trademark
orchestration of heavy bass
and
light-footed
violin,
Bird’s masterful songwriting
is center-stage. The many
layers of his songs are hidden
within unique lyrics and non-
traditional song structure.
Songs
like
“Sisyphus”
recall haunting echoes of
antiquity, harkening back
to the ancient Greek myth
of Sisyphus, a sly trickster
who cheated death twice. As
eternal punishment Sisyphus
was charged with carrying a
boulder up a hill, never to
succeed in this maddening
task. The myth was meant
to warn others from folly of
trying to cheat the natural
order. However, in his song
Andrew Bird seems to speak
from the mind of Sisyphus
— the condemned — calling
to “Let it roll, let it crash
down.” In a sense, the song
speaks to the futility of
living a life within borders
and expectations, of taking
control of your own fate.
Later in the album, “Don
the Struggle” provides a
stylistic breath of fresh air.
The song starts slow, to a
steady, weary march. Bird
sings “Let’s settle down /
We’re all just stumbling
down,”
echoing
a
sense
of
bone-deep
exhaustion
— but instead of physical
weariness, the implication
points again to the burden of
greater expectations. Later
the song breaks out into a
sudden burst of vibrancy. The
tempo drastically increases,
like a car speeding up.
Then someone slams on the
breaks, and the energy dive-
bombs back into the somber
march. In the energetic haze,
Bird sings “But dissonance
is energy while consonance
reminds you of poverty”
— another critique of the
suffocation of the cookie-
cutter lifestyle.
The final track, “Bellevue
Bridge Club,” is comfortable,
slow and eerie. What seems at
first to be a somewhat sweet
song quickly becomes a little
… questionable when one
tunes into the lyrics. Andrew
Bird crafts a strange, twisted
love song, singing “I will hold
you
hostage
…
You know there’s
no you without
me.” It’s almost
reminiscent
of
Stockholm
syndrome.
However,
the
line,
“And
I
will
hold
you
hostage/
Make
you part of my
conspiracy,” hints
at
something
deeper: Following
the
theme
of
the
rest
of
the
album
of
breaking through
limitations,
this
last
song
symbolizes
the
perspective of the
majority: Those who form the
rules want everyone else to
fall in line. But, in fact, rather
than an encouragement of
the herd-mentality, Andrew
Bird calls attention to it in
order to orchestrate a break
to freedom from this well-
beaten, suffocating path.
Ultimately,
Andrew
Bird is not the artist of the
inattentive or indifferent.
As a songwriter, he demands
total and devoted attention.
Bird makes every word count
and forces the audience to
pay attention to even the
smallest details of his songs
in order to capture the
entirety of his multi leveled
creations. Andrew Bird and
his latest album is a prime
example of how music can
be an active, rather than
passive, experience for artist
and listener.
Andrew Bird finds his
voice in a masterpiece
ALBUM REVIEW
MUSIC NOTEBOOK
SAMANTHA CANTIE
Daily Arts Writer
ASIF BECHER
Daily Arts Writer
MADELEINE GANNON
Daily Arts Writer
My Finest Work
Andrew Bird
Virgin EMI