Friday, March 20, 2020 — 6
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

It’s hard to assess an album right now

without the clutter and confusion of this

unsure time seeping into the impression

and coloring the music with something

that wasn’t there to begin with. But the

lyrics and sweeping orchestration of indie-

pop band Circa Waves’s newest album

Sad Happy is founded on that sense of

confusion — the perpetual millennial and

Gen-Z condition of

having one foot in

a happy place and

another
ready
to

fall into the void at

a moment’s notice.

For an age group who

has
been
through

multiple recessions,

an
aimless

administration
and

now
a
worldwide

pandemic before the

age of 30, we’ve never

expected
stability.

This year seems to

be
another
crazy

obstacle in a line of

them; it is surely the most intense we’ve

faced, but it isn’t the last.

There is no way Circa Waves could have

known this would happen, but this record

was made in less than a year after their

April 2019 full-length release, What’s It

Like Over There?, and the feelings are

fresh. The past year has been a rollercoaster

of emotion, leading some to christen 2020

as the year we’d get it all back together, but

it seems this has fallen through in many

ways. However, hope still lingers alongside

the sadness of the present, which is the

driving essence of Sad Happy. Circa Waves

built the album in two parts, releasing the

first side, Happy, in January, and the full

version this past Friday. Though we are all

subject to the automatic shuffle function

in this day and age, I’d say it’s important

to take this one side by side, or at least

in order. The group has obviously put a

concerted effort into separating the Happy

and Sad sides by mood while maintaining

a continuous thread of emotional turmoil

throughout.

The separation between each side isn’t

stark, but rather weaves the same base

level of yearning into different methods

of coping. The Happy half is a perfect

soundtrack for when you feel confused or

lost and the only option seems to be getting

drunk and running wild in the streets. It’s

a fractured happiness — not butterflies

and rainbows and car commercials, but

dancing alone in clubs, wondering why

you’re there in the first place. First single

and record opener

“Jacqueline”
thuds

on with a shuffling

guitar
riff
and

energetic vocals from

frontman
Kieran

Shudall, establishing

the group’s familiar

brand
of
pop/rock

fusion from the very

first note. The songs

on the first half of the

record have been in

the world for months,

settling
into
their

listener’s ears with

its mix of unease

and an f-the-world

mentality that suits Circa Waves’s style so

perfectly.

“Sad Happy,” the introduction to the

record’s second half, is arguably the

standout of the entire effort. It soothes

while energizing, the bubbling synths of

the chorus supporting each languid verse.

The song, and Circa Waves’ discography

up to this point, is marked by a mesh of the

British indie rock sound familiar to groups

like Arctic Monkeys and the embrace of

digital production similar to Two Door

Cinema Club. Listening to Sad Happy

feels like listening to the “British Indie”

Pandora radio station in 2013, but with a

twist of sadness that could only be native

to this time and place. It’s that mix of both

nostalgia and bitingly fresh insight which

makes this double album so interesting to

listen to during such a confusing period, as

the whirlwind of narrative and sound takes

each listener on a ride through everything

they are able to feel.

The confusion of young
adult life on ‘Sad Happy’

CLARA SCOTT
Daily Arts Writer

I find it hard to avoid burnout when it

comes to my own passions and hobbies.

Food is one of those passions that fell to

the burnout. I continuously worked in

the kitchen during my academic career;

handling, creating and consuming food

were the highlights of my day in light of the

drudgery of exams and projects compounded

by the existential dread of “planning for my

future.”

Releasing a fillet of fish from its backbone

with one smooth glide of your deba knife.

Furiously mincing your vegetables into

1/16 inch cuts of brunoise mirepoix that

yield a silent nod of approval from the chef

de cuisine. Gingerly retrieving an egg-

white raft of protein scum that threatens to

destroy your baby of the evening — a pristine,

transparent lobster consomme. One by one,

these tasks lose their vibrancy and their

appeal, reverting back to a similar drudgery

of tasks not unlike academic work.

Cue the year 2014. Fresh from producing

and directing the litany of Marvel films,

such as “The Avengers” and the “Iron Man”

series, director/actor Jon Favreau (“The

Mandalorian”) writes, directs, co-produces

and stars in “Chef” — a low-budget film

meant to parallel his own experiences within

the film industry. His co-producer Roy Choi,

founder of the Kogi taco trucks, initially

serves as Favreau’s chef consultant — though

Choi eventually is given creative freedom

over all culinary aspects and technical details

within the movie. When it was released, both

critics and general audiences enjoyed the

film. However, Favreau and Choi’s budding

partnership seemed to reach its denouement

after the conclusion of the film’s production.

Perhaps it’s Choi’s insistence to properly

showcase the life of a cook in “Chef” that

resonates with my own doldrum experiences

of food and the kitchen. Favreau’s character,

Carl Casper, finds his own calling within

food after years of being trapped by

repeatedly cooking tired, outdated cuisine.

Though somewhat similar to my experiences,

I found the film almost invigorating,

though I dismissed it all the same as some

fantasization of the kitchen experience at

large.

But five years later, Favreau and Choi

teamed up for their spin-off show called

“The Chef Show,” which Netflix describes

as an outlet of recipe experimentation

between the master and apprentice as they

also collaborate with celebrities within

the entertainment and culinary worlds.

While the episodes match the theme of the

movie, they are far more informal in tone;

at separate points, Favreau and Choi both

confirm that “The Chef Show” represents

the continuation and maturation of the

friendship that had stagnated after they had

completed “Chef.” In other words, “The Chef

Show” is the spiritual successor to “Chef”

happening within the world — not some

other idyllic movie fantasy.

But in spite of the many celebrities

featured within each episode — ranging

from movie stars including Robert Downey

Jr. (“Dolittle”) or Tom Holland (“Onward”)

to culinary heavyweights like Wolfgang

Puck, Aaron Franklin and David Chang

— “The Chef Show” focuses deeply on the

relationship between Favreau and Choi. In

particular, Favreau’s passion and eagerness

to learn culinary skills and traditions

fuels Choi’s (and other chefs’) respect and

thus fuels their friendship. At other times,

Choi’s pensive but engaged demeanor in

learning about Favreau’s (and other actors

and filmmakers’) struggles provides an

additional depth of respect and friendship as

Choi quietly arranges the mise en place.

But “The Chef Show” doesn’t focus only

on the relationship between Favreau and

Choi. As highlighted as Favreau and Choi’s

star-crossed friendship might be, it’s the

expanded individual stories of the two that

gives their friendship meaning. Favreau’s

recounting of his claim to fame through the

Marvel Cinematic Universe provides with

the same conclusion as Choi’s recounting of

his exploding popularity through the Kogi

trucks. Both drew acclaim through hard

work in uncharted territory — which were

the great uncertainties and instabilities of

the MCU and food trucks within 2008. Hard

work and talent acknowledges hard work and

talent — which provides much of the impetus

and spiritual pathos of “The Chef Show.”

‘The Chef Show’ and re-
discovering learning food

BRENDAN CHO
Daily Arts Writer

MUSIC REVIEW
TV REVIEW

Read more online at
michigandaily.com

More unimaginative fodder for the earnest Never-Trumper

In “A Citizen’s Guide to Beating Donald Trump,”

David Plouffe offers succinct tips for the energized

civilian to help their favored candidate ascend the

White House steps. Each chapter gives insight into

the general campaign process. His book provides a

crash course in what a campaign manager would

want volunteers to know about how to best utilize

their labor and the campaign’s materials. When

reading “A Citizen’s Guide to Beating Donald

Trump,” Plouffe’s optimism reads as genuine as

he avoids the demoralizing rehashing of status quo

politics. Like Plouffe, the American Democracy is

hopeful, a promise to be fulfilled with coalitions

and earnest votes.

However, beyond general industry insight

and tips, Plouffe’s 2020 work is an unimaginative

contribution to the 2020 political book selling

season. The novel’s thinly dispersed advice

stretches across 225 pages and offers few novel

strategies.

The novel opens with a play-by-play of Election

Day 2016. In his introduction, Plouffe narrates

the collective American shock at Donald Trump’s

2016 win. He notes MSNBC’s somber realization

and Fox’s surprised jubilation. Though he does not

fully resuscitate the liberal November 2016 ethos,

Plouffe succeeds in setting the stakes of his guide

and asserting the possibility of a 2020 repeat. This

direct introduction is followed by a somewhat

patronizing yet engaging sequence of floating,

repackaged ideas.

Plouffe does not pontificate on the validity

of the U.S. electoral process or explore policy

issues. Instead Plouffe strips the election down,

interpreting the Great American Democracy as

a numbers game of voters and delegates. 270 to

victory — a victory requiring effective volunteers.

In every chapter, Plouffe leans into his 2008

and 2012 industry acumen, giving his first hand

accounts of Obama’s stunning loss in the 2008

New Hampshire Primary and Obama’s rousing

concession speech. His anecdotes help bind and

substantiate the book. However, his constant

references to the Obama Era feels misplaced in

2020, tinged with nostalgia for a president and

political climate past.

For 2020, Plouffe imagines heroic volunteers

and a winsome Obama-esque candidate. He writes

about a repeat of Will.i.am’s rendition of an Obama

speech and campaigns pushing volunteer apps. His

ideas outlined are sound and conventional. The

Bernie Sanders 2020 campaign underscored their

“Bern” app at the candidate’s rally at the University

of Michigan’s Diag in early March. The democratic

nominee frontrunner also has his Team Joe App

intended, too, to help coordinate volunteers.

Plouffe’s core message reads as follows: Given

enthusiastic volunteers, the power and passion of

the people will prevail. His novel, as per the title,

envisions a broad audience — citizens unhappy

with Donald Trump — and presumes that they are

fired up to engage in politics publicly. His “Anti-

Trump” plan requires all discontented citizens to

collectively rise up and “GOTV” in 2020. However,

not a single chapter is dedicated to either convincing

or reaffirming political involvement.

Plouffe assumes a base level of political

engagement in his readers. He fails to invest in

convincing a passerby, an interested Barnes and

Noble reader and vital 2020 voter, to become

politically active. Perhaps, for someone as inured in

politics and activism as Plouffe, he forgets and leaves

behind the vast majority of Democratic votes, the

so-called “whole-food” moms: those dissatisfied

with the political climate yet unwilling to publicly

speak out. What those readers require are strategies

to get “political” without outing themselves as

political individuals. Plouffe incorrectly assumes

that most Americans disapprove of Trump and

adore Obama. He harkens back to 2008 as a political

Golden Age, forgetting that following Obama’s

2008 blue wave was a Republican backlash, fueled

in part by disaffected Obama voters.

ELIZABETH YOON

Daily Arts Writer

BOOK REVIEW

“Sad Happy”

Circa Waves

Prolifica

“A Citizen’s Guide to

Beating Donal Trump”

David Plouffe

Viking

March 3, 2020