The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Tuesday, February 4, 2020 — 5

When listening to her song “Christmas Lights,”
you might think Ingrid Michaelson is describing the
sadness of missing a loved one during the holidays;
however, she’s actually narrating the thoughts of
Joyce Byers, the mother of a missing boy in another
dimension from the Netflix series “Stranger
Things.” “You’re not here, but you’re here / I can
still hear you call / Like a faraway bird trapped
inside of the wall” Michaelson croons, recounting
the scenes when Byers is able to communicate with
her son via the Christmas lights hanging around
her house.
While she’s built her career on her honesty and
vulnerability, Michaelson took a new approach
on her latest album Stranger Songs, dedicating
the entirety of the album to the characters of
“Stranger Things.” I had the opportunity to talk
with Michaelson on Wednesday before watching
her perform live at Folk Festival to discuss her new
album and her upcoming show.
“Basically all the songs on the record are from
the point of view of a few of the characters,”
Michaelson said. “It’s essentially an assignment.
There’s this song, you have to tell this story. For me,
the structure of it is really different and just getting
into a groove of writing about what you’re thinking
or writing what you’re feeling or writing about
what you went through, it sort of feels like you have
homework.
But within that structure I find great comfort for
whatever reason, maybe because I’ve never really
written like that before. It allows me to somehow
be more creative because I have this structure, if
that makes any sense. I’ve been really loving it and
enjoying it. Applying it to pop writing has just been
really cool and fun and rewarding.”
In her bio for Stranger Songs, Michaelson
describes how she felt as though she was writing too
much from the “brain and mind and soul of Ingrid
Michaelson,” so Stranger Songs was a way for her to

plug her own experiences into a pre-existing story.
“Even though you’re taking inspiration from
something else, there are still songs on the record
that are very personal to me because the ideas
are universal,” Michaelson said. “We all suffer
heartbreak, we all suffer loss, we all have love in
our life in some capacity, so even though they are
pre-existing stories, my own voice is definitely
there. My own vulnerability and my own part are
definitely in the songs in Stranger Songs.”
The album pairs well with her other big project
as the composer for the musical adaptation of “The
Notebook.”
“In a musical you’re writing music that’s from
the point of view of other characters of another
story, so you get to tell a story through songs, which
is really amazing,” Michaelson noted. “And then
that’s where, although I didn’t realize this until
after the fact, Stranger Songs came from because
I was doing a very similar thing only in the realm
of pop music where I’m taking pre-existing stories
and characters and I’m funneling them through my
lense.”
As a teaser to the opening of “The Notebook,”
Michaelson performed an unreleased song from
the show at the festival and encouraged audience
members to see it live at the Chicago Shakespeare
Theater in September.
Michaelson was one of six acts performing at the
first night of the 43rd Annual Folk Festival, a two-
day event that raises money for The Ark, a local non-
profit concert venue in Ann Arbor. Sporting black
jeans and a t-shirt, Michaelson walked on stage
with her long-time bandmate Allie Moss.
“It’s going to be very acoustic, just how I started
touring years ago,” Michaelson said before the
show. “It was just Allie and me in a minivan. So
we’re going to do everything acoustic, stripped
down. She’s one of my favorite people to sing with.
Harmonizing with her is [great]. She’s so amazingly
good and she blends so well.”

Sitting down with Ingrid
Michaelson, AA Folkfest

MUSIC REVIEW

KAITLYN FOX
Daily Arts Writer

The second night of The Ark’s 43rd Ann Arbor Folk
Festival began with the lilting sounds of guitar, banjo
and lap steel, as it often does. There is nothing quite
like sitting in Hill Auditorium during the festival,
every seat filled with excited patrons laughing, crying
and clapping throughout four hours of music that The
Ark, a local music venue, puts on each year. To begin
this year’s second night, emcee Willy Porter roused
the crowd for the first act, a bluegrass and roots-
rock group called Cold Tone Harvest. As audience
members filed in through the auditorium’s gilded
doors, they were met with the beautiful, yet gritty
voice of the band’s lead vocalist, over a soundscape of
rhythmic slide guitar and bouncing drums. Though
the group played only three songs during their act,
they set the tone for the rest of the night with a warm
sense of intimacy.
After Cold Tone Harvest, Tulsa, Oklahoma. native
John Moreland took the stage with his musical
partner and guitarist John Calvin Abney, both of
whom are monumental talents in their own right.
Moreland is the kind of songwriter that makes you
forget everything that’s happening around you, his
deep voice wielding the kind of gravitas that only
comes from years of careful practice. As he played
several songs from his upcoming album, Abney’s
trills and riffs added a brilliant dose of treble to the
songwriter’s emotive lyrics and cadenced guitar
strumming. Moreland is a big guy, but his stage
presence dwarfs any physical attributes he might
have. It is hard to fill an auditorium of Hill’s size with
one person’s voice alone, but he achieved it easily,
moving the audience with each line of his roots-
rock stylings. If soul is what sets folk music apart
from other genres, Moreland is its poster boy. His
performance reminds us of why large events like the
Ann Arbor Folk Festival are critical: They highlight
lesser-known but immensely talented artists with
time on the big stage.
Moreland is a tough act to follow under any

circumstance,
but
Nashville
songwriter
and
acclaimed guitarist Molly Tuttle is one of the only
people who could match his intensity and talent.
The first woman to win the International Bluegrass
Music Association’s Guitar Player of the Year award,
Tuttle’s flatpicking skills are incredible to watch and
even more of a gift to hear. Paired with the singer’s
clear and stirring voice, her songs call to mind the
kind of timeless music folk is built on. At the peak of
one chorus, Tuttle’s precision both with the guitar
and her own vocals left the audience in awe, with the
typical whoops of support and enjoyment quieted
as each note echoed through the auditorium. She
approaches music like a surgeon would a body. In
many ways, her live performance is a spectacle of
both heartfelt commitment and incredible technical
prowess.
Following the theme of female empowerment
and skill, Tuttle’s talent was matched by the next act,
R&B legend Bettye Lavette. The Detroit singer began
her career in the early days of Motown, and decades
later, Lavette has gotten back on the horse to show
audiences her unforgettable voice and inimitable soul
once again. Her performance was full of laughter and
wit, with Lavette’s raspy voice carrying each song
with jokes and false exits. Near the end of the set, she
admitted to the audience that she was out of breath,
proceeded to dance off the stage in her black velvet
jumpsuit and came back a minute later with the fervor
and stage presence only a veteran of the industry can
embody. For a woman of advanced age, Lavette’s
spark is still as bright as it ever was, her raw talent and
gregarious personality pulling the audience in with
every word that came out of her painted-red mouth.
The festival could have easily ended with Lavette’s
magnetic performance, and yet, the two headliners
hadn’t even played yet. As Lavette danced through
the stage doors once more, this time not returning,
cleverly-named North Carolina duo Mandolin
Orange prepared for a set full of grace and emotional
clarity.

Ann Arbor Folkfest Day 2
is full of magnetic talent

MUSIC REVIEW

CLARA SCOTT
Daily Arts Writer

Not many things in life are truly black or white. There will always be
more unanswered questions than answered, and the ethics behind our
choices are often what make these questions nearly impossible to solve.
Despite this headache that morality drags us into, many would agree
that part of our responsibility on Earth is, to some extent, recognize
that working to solve moral dilemmas is far better than ignoring them
altogether. “Bojack Horseman” knows this and, through its entire six-
season run, has never been afraid to shout into the void to try and get the
message across that “the truth is none of it matters and the truth is it all
matters tremendously.”
In this eight-episode conclusion to the show’s final season, everything
is the same and everything is different. The first half of the final season
left us in a transition period in each character’s life and with a cliffhanger
that hinted at the fateful culmination of Bojack’s (Will Arnett, “Riviera”)
mistakes. The second half leans into the anxiety that was built up
surrounding Bojack’s rocky attempt to be a better, sober person and
capitalizes on the fear but logical expectation he’ll relapse into the “old
Bojack” that everyone’s so resentful of.
In the last season in particular, the show begs the question of whether
people should be allowed to move on or should have to remain plagued by
the mistakes of their past. Bojack, caught up in the wake of the #MeToo
movement, finally faces legal and societal backlash as the secrets
surrounding Sarah Lynn’s (Kristen Schaal, “Bob’s Burgers”) death air to
the public. Bojack, like all flawed characters, causes internal conflict for
the show’s viewers and at times forces them to choose whether they stay
hopeful that Bojack will improve, or hold him to the same cancel culture

standard most powerful Hollywood men have been held to in the past
few years. It makes us wonder whether people can really change, or if
they’re bound to the chains of their toxicity. And if people really can
change, to what extent should we hold them accountable for the actions
of their old self?
A distinctive characteristic of the show is its consistently unforgettable
penultimate episodes. Always pivotal, always poignant and always
action-packed, these episodes have been a marker for how meticulous
the creators can be and how human this fantasy-like show really is. Each
character, no matter how profusely they deny it, is a product of their past.
In between the puns, the movie references and the absurd escapades,
the show is filled with existentialism and profound one-liners that make
“The Good Place” seem like a children’s show.
This final season is different in that it intentionally includes all the
ethical discussions the show kept relatively subliminal in prior seasons.
In its penultimate episode, characters — which I’ll leave undisclosed to
avoid exposing crucial plot points — are literally having these discussions
around the dinner table. In a game called “Best Part/Worst Part,” the
characters debate sacrifice, happiness and the best and worst parts of
their lives. It emulated what the fans have been doing over the past six
years — analyzing, discussing, interpreting.
Even though I know all good things must come to an end, I can’t help
but pine for more. This last season is the most precise, carefully-crafted
the series has ever been, and yet there’s a part of me that knows it wasn’t
their peak. Thankfully, the creators tied all the necessary loose ends
to wrap up the show in exactly the way it was supposed to be, and we
can only hope television doesn’t peak with this series. Good things are
fleeting and their fleeting nature is often what makes them so special.
And like Diane (Alison Brie, “Horse Girl”) says, some things “were never
meant to be in your life forever.”

‘Bojack Horseman’ season six reveals vital truths

TV REVIEW

SOPHIA YOON
Daily TV Editor

Bojack Horseman

Season Six

Netflix

Read more at
MichiganDaily.com

There’s a certain type of person you’ve probably encountered
in grade school. Perhaps you were this person yourself. This was
the person who didn’t just like to read — reading was part of their
identity. The one who was on a first name basis with the librarian;
the one who finished all the Harry Potter books by middle school;
the one who always had a book on their desk and it was always
thicker than a dictionary; the one who, when the Scholastic Book
Fair came to school, arrived with two crisp twenty dollar bills and
put more thought into their purchases than most would into buying
a car. You get the idea. Chances are, this person doesn’t read so
much anymore. Maybe they haven’t found the time or just haven’t
gotten around to making that trip to the library, but of course, deep
down they know that they just don’t enjoy reading as much as they
used to. This experience is encapsulated by Erin Morgenstern’s
“The Starless Sea.”
The book is an amalgamation of interconnected narratives
experienced by the main character, Zachary. It starts with him
finding a book in a college library that tells of an event from his
own life that he’s never told anyone about. What follows is a fairy-
tale-like adventure where Zachary is taken from story to story,
about everything from pirates to princesses to painters. In what
is essentially a story about stories, he rides this rollercoaster of
fantastical narratives, guided by the eccentric characters he meets
along the way.
My initial impulse was to hate this book. The plot is all over
the place and often confusing, which is not surprising given that
it tries to incorporate so many simultaneous subplots. The main
plot is frequently interrupted with short stories whose relevance
is sometimes unclear, even by the end. There is, for example, a
three page story about a man who collects keys. Though keys are
a prominent symbol in the book, the book never revisits the key
collector. In this instance the story serves to clarify the meaning
of the symbol, but doesn’t advance the plot. These ambiguous

interludes are stretched out across nearly five-hundred pages,
making it nearly impossible to keep track of relevant characters and
plot points.
This unfortunately also produces many underdeveloped side
characters, like the key collector, who disappear as effortlessly as

they’re introduced. One could overlook this if the main characters
were complex and memorable enough, but even Zachary seems to
just be along for the ride rather than an active participant in the
action. He meanders between whimsical tales without any real
purpose aside from a desire to continue the story. “The Starless Sea”
has all the warning signs of a bad book.
However, I still found myself eager to continue, to find out
about what subsequent wondrous adventure Morgenstern had in
store for me. This is a book one can enjoy if one lets go of the need
to make sense of it and gives in to its elegant chaos. The beautiful
prose works to construct incredibly rich and imaginative worlds.
For instance, the shores of the Starless Sea, the place the book is
named after, houses entrances to the “labyrinth” of stories that
Zachary traverses. This physical location is described in a manner
that mirrors the interconnectedness of literature as a whole, a major
theme of the book. Morgenstern can build this intricate image
and just as easily transition to a chapter about a dinner party or
an intimate conversation between lovers. “The Starless Sea” is, in
short, a spectacle.
When reading it, one feels a sense of nostalgia for a time when

reading was for its own sake. The sheer imagination of Morgenstern’s
stories combined with the sense of familiarity brought by the
incorporation of classic literary motifs take you back to a time when
you sat in bed late at night, effortlessly engrossed in book after book.
Reading “The Starless Sea” is a bittersweet experience. It evokes the
feelings associated with reading a truly great book without being
a great book itself. It summons nostalgia for the childlike sense
of wonder that many once felt when reading. Yet, like all forms of
nostalgia, the feeling is fleeting. It’s like a diet Coke or a decaf coffee.
You know exactly what it’s supposed to be and, therefore, exactly
what you don’t have. Readers of “The Starless Sea” are similarly left
wanting the real thing. Its value is in the evocation of the experience
of reading without expectation, of reading simply to read.

‘The Starless Sea’ is the perfect book for book lovers

BOOKS REVIEW

SEJJAD ALKHALBY
Daily Arts Writer

Read more at
MichiganDaily.com

This is a book that can be enjoyed if its
reader lets go of the need to make sense
of it and gives in to its elegant chaos

NETFLIX

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