The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, September 25, 2019 — 5A

Nell Zink’s “Doxology” offers a sweeping, multi-
generational story of an American family from the 
1980s to our current moment. It’s a deeply modern 
epic that whips through cultural touchstones like 
the ’90s punk scene, 9/11, late-’00s conservation 
movements and the 2016 election. “Doxology” is an 
ambitious novel, and though not every swing quite 
works, its lofty goals ultimately serve it well. 
We start with Pam, Daniel and Joe, three 
musicians living on the Lower East Side of 
Manhattan who are shocked by both a surprise 
hit single for Joe and an unplanned pregnancy 
for Pam and Daniel. Their scrappy beginnings are 
underpinned by a sense of genuine camaraderie, 
and the characters’ histories are laid out with 
sprawling, extensive detail. We follow them 
through the ’90s as they raise baby Flora and work 
on the music, through A&R meetings and concerts, 
all the way through to the events of Sept. 11, 2001. 

From there, the novel shifts focus to Flora, and 
we watch her as she grows up, goes to school, and 
gets involved in political campaigns, including, 
eventually, Jill Stein’s Green Party bid for the 2016 
nomination.
Zink is a sharp writer, the sort whose offhand 
observations sting with their acuity. Like when 
Flora’s post-grad entry level job starts dampening 
her spirit, Zink writes: “She faked the rote 
excitability of a charismatic zombie. She hid in 
the ladies’ room and cried.” She sweeps through 
days, weeks and years with unrelenting speed and 
dexterity, but it’s these moments of keen observation 
that cut through the grandeur and expanse of the 
novel’s concept. 
Trump looms large in “Doxology,” but less as an 
endpoint in a larger American narrative and more as 
a silent fixture, a structural keystone in the politics 
of an intimate family story. The modern political 
climate, Zink seems to argue, is deeply connected 
to the personal ties and erosions in contemporary 
America, but the personal will always take 
the foreground over the political in a person’s 
conceptions of their own lives. “The personal is not 

political,” she writes. “It can become political when 
abstracted and generalized, stripped of identifying 
markers. The political subject is a depersonalized 
subject: This could be you.” 
On its surface, there’s nothing depersonalized 
about “Doxology.” It’s as specific and clearly 
drawn a story as you can imagine. Approaching it 
as purely a work of political commentary would do 
a disservice to the intricate narrative structures 
within which Zink works. At the same time, 
though, there’s no ignoring the ways the family 
dynamics pay tribute and give service to a larger 
political narrative, as a send-up of our modern 
media diets and political strategies. The personal 
isn’t political, Zink argues, but the political might 
just be personal. It’ll be interesting to see how 
“Doxology” ages, how its specificity and distinctly 
contemporary cultural references take narrative 
form after their relevance wanes. But that’s a 
conversation for another day. With “Doxology,” 
Zink achieves a criticism that goes beyond satire to 
arrive at something suspiciously resembling hope. 
For the moment, at least, the novel feels much more 
than merely relevant. It’s essential.

‘Doxology’ is expansive, essential and very, very good

ASIF BECHER
Daily Arts Writer

BOOK REVIEW

Oftentimes, when people think of house 
shows, DIY shows or any other sort of 
“show” with some other word leading it, they 
think of a damp, cold room accompanied by 
people awkwardly standing around as the 
sound of feedback screeches from a guitar 
amp off in the distance. These shows blend 
together, featuring band after band that 
usually encompasses a similar set of sonic 
characteristics and songwriting subjects, 
with members either strictly playing the 
drums, bass or guitar.
But why is that? The term ‘house show’ 
should simply imply some sort of show inside 
of a house, right? Why is the term associated 
with such a consistent, specific experience? 
Why does the term conjure up mental images 
of christmas lights strung up around moldy 
basements with people awkwardly bobbing 
their head to loud music that all sort of 
blends together for three hours?
This past Friday, I was invited by two 
close friends to attend a show they were 
putting on … inside of their house. One might 
even call it a house show. However, the show 
didn’t require me to walk down to a dimly 
lit basement or to stand around as my back 
slowly started to yell at the rest of my body for 
having such poor posture. When I arrived, I 
was greeted by a collection of smiling faces, 
quietly chatting in the living room, sitting 
in different chairs, couches and even on the 
carpeted floor. The space was exactly as the 
Facebook event had described — cozy.
The two artists each played sets of their 
own music. One played a collection of found 
sounds in order to create an immersive 

soundscape that turned what I thought was 
15 minutes into nearly 40. It wasn’t until 
she approached the piano that I started to 
come to. The next performer played some of 
his songs for the first time ever, prefancing 
his performance with a short blurb about 
how he had never shared some of these 
songs with more than one or two people at 
a time before diving into a song featuring 
a droning synthesizer, piano, cello, and of 
course, singing. These songs were much 
different from what you might typically 
hear from a coffee house singer/songwriter; 
I was mesmerized by the long and atypical 
structures found in these performances, 
wondering when I had last been so captivated 
at a house show.
So why do we think of bands playing 
different variations of rock music in a smelly 
basement as what a house show is? I don’t think 
there’s anything wrong with those types of 
shows; in fact, I’ve had great experiences at 
many of them, as most of my friends and even 
acquaintances probably know. However, I 
really think it’s important to expand the 
ideas of what a house or basement show can 
be, especially for people booking shows. But 
just as there is a difference between a house 
and a home, I believe there’s a difference 
between a house show and a show inside of 
a house. A sui generis performance like the 
one I experienced on Friday are events that 
could only achieve the intimacy and wonder 
that they do because of the setting and 
environment it creates.
House shows, to me, are more than 
anything 
else 
an 
intimate 
experience. 
Sharing music with your peers is something 
that’s really special, and I think that no 
matter what your music sounds like, it 
deserves to be heard. That’s what these 
house shows are for.

On turning a house into a
home ... or rather, a show

RYAN COX
Daily DIY Columnist

DIY COLUMN

M83 rose to widespread prominence with the 
release of his sixth studio album Hurry Up, We’re 
Dreaming, which spawned the successful single 
“Midnight City,” a song that arguably represents 
the peak of the synthwave genre. Unfortunately, 
it’s been downhill ever since for Anthony 
Gonzalez, the man behind the M83 moniker. 
After the lukewarm reception received by his last 
studio album Junk, the decision to follow it up with 
DSVII, a collection of instrumentals, is probably 
not a smart commercial decision. However, if he 
intends to rehabilitate his image among critics and 
fans, it makes a lot of sense; an instrumental album 
is relatively pressure-free. 
DSVII is not the electropop M83 is known for — 
it is an instrumental progressive electronic album 
that, at times, borders on ambient. It sounds like 
the soundtrack to a video game from your youth 
that you rediscover years later. You start to play 
it out of a sense of nostalgic obligation, only to 
realize that it really hasn’t aged all that well. Let 
there be no mistake: DSVII is far from unpleasant, 
just hollow. The ambient wistfulness it intends to 
evoke falls flat. 
The tracks range from pleasant, yet largely 
uneventful, to interminable. There are a few songs 
worth mentioning — the project reaches its zenith 
with “Feelings,” a dynamic and creative piece that 
avoids many of the self-indulgent pitfalls the tracks 
surrounding it succumb to. “A Word Of Wisdom,” 
while a decent enough composition, sounds out 
of place on the project. It sounds less like a retro 
soundscape and more like the closing credit music 
to an educational children’s show that is about to 
be cancelled. “Jeux d’enfants” is a pretty piano 
piece, notable in its restraint and taste compared to 
many of the sprawling yet inconsequential tracks 

that surround it. “Oh Yes You’re There, Everyday” 
is the weakest piece on the album, spending far 
too long on an idea with far too little substance. 
“Temple of Sorrow” is an excellent closer, and one 
of the stronger efforts M83 has made since Hurry 
Up, We’re Dreaming. Despite some good selections, 
the vast majority of the songs on DSVII commit the 
cardinal sin of art: being utterly forgettable. 
Nostalgia is difficult to get right — for most, it 
becomes a crutch, a cheap trick through which 
one can evoke emotions without actually saying 
anything. By its nature, it is a dependent tool: 
Without the preformed emotional connections to 
whatever is being used as the object of nostalgia 
(in this case, cheap 80s synths), the expression 
becomes meaningless. While it can be a useful 
artistic ornament, triggering a sense of recognition 
by appealing to some aspect of collective memory, 
it cannot adequately substitute for creativity or 
interest. Unfortunately, M83 has for the better part 
of their career leaned on the nostalgia evoked by 
cheesy synths as a crutch (especially on their most 
recent project Junk). DSVII is no different.
If you want decent ’80s-tinged background 
music, or if you have a specific taste for video game 
soundtracks, then listen to DSVII. If not, you won’t 
lose much by skipping this one.

M83’s latest relies on a few
too many crutches to soar

JONAH MENDELSON
Daily Arts Writer

ALBUM REVIEW

I was mesmerized by the long and atypical 
structures found in these performances, 
wondering when I had last been so captivated 
by a house show

MUTE RECORDS

DSVII

M83

Mute Records

YOUTUBE

She sweeps through days, weeks and years with 
unrelenting speed and dexterity, but it’s these 
moments of keen observation that cut through the 
grandeur and expanse of the novel’s concept

‘Doxology’

Nell Zink

Aug. 27, 2019

4th Estate

