Monday, August 31, 2020 — 13
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
‘Trinkets’: A show made
perfectly for Twitter
‘I Used to Go Here’ is a
different campus return
The Michigan Daily’s
Albums of the Summer
‘The Best Parts of Us’ celebrates our ties to the Earth
Photo provided by Netflix
Photo provided by Taylor Swift
It might seem that if a Netflix
executive wanted to get a grasp
on what the kids were up to these
days, all they would have to do
is log on to Twitter — a pseudo
soapbox of what new generations
value and want to see change in
— and soak it all in. Needless to
say, Twitter is not the real world,
but it occupies a very strange
role in American society. When
users start asking if crimes like
shoplifting can be normalized,
they are (mostly) joking. But
apparently no one told Netflix
this, because they took gen-Z
Twitter quips and ran with it for
two seasons.
“Trinkets” is just another
addition
to
Netflix’s
diverse
catalogue of original coming-
of-age stories. The show centers
on Elodie (Brianna Hildebrand,
“Deadpool”), a socially-awkward
lesbian junior in high school
and her two girl friends — the
stubborn,
loud-mouthed
Moe
(Kiana Madeira, “The Flash”)
and the rich, popular Tabitha
(Quintessa Swindell, “Euphoria”).
Each character has their own
semi-separate subplot revolving
around love, typical of Netflix
teen shows. Season two continues
where the first left off: Moe
struggles to be the girlfriend her
lover Noah (Odiseas Georgiadis,
“Sacred Lies”) wants.
JOSHUA THOMAS
Daily Arts Writer
Read more online at
michigandaily.com
A return to campus is always
a return to the familiar. We
see the friends we’ve missed,
the places we’ve been thinking
about and the routine we’ve
been craving. That said, to say
that this year will be different
is
an
understatement.
It’s
difficult right now to imagine
the normal college experience.
Imagine what returning to the
University will feel like in a
year, or five, or fifteen.
Watching
“I
Used
to
Go Here” in this context
was interesting. Kris Rey’s
(“Unexpected”)
indie
flick,
which
was
supposed
to
appear at this year’s South
by Southwest before it got
canceled, follows struggling
writer Kate Conklin (Gillian
Jacobs, “Community”) as she
returns to her alma mater
in
Carbondale,
IL.
Kate’s
crumbling life is immediately
established — within the first
few minutes, she talks to her
publishers about her canceled
book tour while toting a box
of invitations to her canceled
wedding. Going back to her old
university not only distracts
her from her failing book sales,
it draws her back into her
college days.
It’s
clear
that
Kate’s
alma mater awakens a deep
nostalgia — she begins every
conversation with “I used to,”
as in “I used to live here,” “I
used to dance in this room,”
etc. She reunites with her
old mentor, creative writing
instructor David Kirkpatrick
(Jermaine Clement, “What We
Do in the Shadows”). She runs
into old classmates, played
by Jorma Taccone (“Popstar:
Never Stop Never Stopping”)
of The Lonely Island, and Kate
Micucci (“The Little Hours”)
in a short but memorable
cameo. She visits her old house
where she and her friends
lived while they were students,
and eventually befriends the
kids who live there now. All
throughout, she gives updates
to her (very pregnant) friend
Laura (Zoë Chao, “Love Life”),
who chats with her about all of
their old college spots but also
serves as a reminder: Kate is
an adult who has been out of
college for a long time.
With the nostalgia comes
what I can only describe as a
regression in behavior. Within
the first day of returning to
college,
Kate
parties
with
the kids who live in her old
house. Her realignment with
David
indicates
a
mentor-
mentee
relationship
that
is complicated at best and
problematic
at
worst,
and
she finds herself jealous of
April (Hannah Marks, “Dirk
Gently’s
Holistic
Detective
Agency”), David’s star student.
She makes cringeworthy and
juvenile
choices,
because
something
about
a
college
campus reignites the impulses
of her college days. But this is
apparently what can happen
when you come back to college.
KARI ANDERSON
Daily Arts Writer
Read more online at
michigandaily.com
Sally Cole-Misch dedicates her
debut novel, “The Best Part Of
Us,” to “every living thing.” An
environmental
communicator
by profession, Cole-Misch refers
to more than just humans or
other animals. Her dedication
encapsulates the entire natural
world. Clusters of birch trees,
steep rocky cliffs, vast lakes and
bays — Cole-Misch recognizes
that everything around us is
living, pulsing, with energies
unique to its spirit.
“The Best Part Of Us” is a
captivating celebration of nature
that pushes us to consider our
connections to the Earth. Cole-
Misch tells her story through
the eyes of Beth Llyndee, an
adolescent girl who returns to
her family’s island in the fictional
Lake Wigwakobi every summer.
Beth’s summers on her island
are the most treasured part of
her childhood, a place where she
can hike on trails and swim in
waters she knows by heart. Lake
Wigwakobi is a part of Beth,
much more a home than her
house in Ann Arbor. When Beth’s
tight bond with nature suddenly
shatters, she’s forced to choose
between her family and her
cherished island refuge.
Cole-Misch’s strength lies in
her formation of setting, writing
about Lake Wigwakobi in an
evocative and compelling way
that immediately draws readers
to the island. Upon first viewing
of the lake, Beth “leaned over the
bow to watch the water change
from aquamarine to indigo as the
lake deepened, and to brilliant
white when the bow broke its
stillness and collected it into
waves.”
Similar
descriptions
accompany
everything
from
picking blueberries on the island’s
peak to watching the sky dance
with northern lights on a summer
night. “As Beth absorbs her view—
the water, people, trees, rocks, and
sky—her back lifts, her arms fall
to her side, and her legs relax to
cross at her ankles,” Cole Misch
writes. Her words paint the Earth
as our ultimate refuge, a source
of strength to draw from and live
intimately within.
“The Best Part Of Us” is a
lighthearted read that shines in
its simplicity. The novel’s plot
isn’t exceptionally noteworthy
or adventurous — the spotlight is
instead on the natural world. “...
some of us need to step outside
what man creates and does to one
another to find peace and clarity in
the woods, water, and sky,” Cole-
Misch writes. Each character is
multilayered and built beautifully
to show how variable human
relationships to the environment
can be. Beth thinks clearly
when sitting on the forest floor
surrounded by pine needles, while
her mother thinks only of the
island’s dangerous cliffs posing a
threat to her family’s safety.
TRINA PAL
Daily Arts Writer
Read more online at
michigandaily.com
Phoebe Bridgers, Punisher
Phoebe Bridgers is the master
of emotive storytelling. She didn’t
reinvent or revolutionize the art of
it though, and she’s not pretending
that she has. “I think I’m pulling
from a lot of different places,
stealing from a lot of different
people,” she said in an interview
with NPR.
Most
overtly,
she
“steals”
from idol Elliott Smith, his name
all but mentioned on title track
“Punisher.” Here, she details
her self-proclaimed “obsession”
for Smith and addresses the
song directly to him, using his
conventions. The opening lines,
the chorus, her signature double
tracking and detailed storytelling
all hark back to his work. But
Smith isn’t the only clear influence
here— frequent collaborator and
bandmate Conor Oberst has his
share on the lyrics, and the pops
of baroque instrumentation are
reminiscent of Illinois-era Sufjan
Stevens.
However, Punisher isn’t about
Bridgers’s obsessions and idols so
much as it’s an honest exploration
of where she finds inspiration
for her music. Oftentimes, her
lyrics read like quiet ruminations,
unfurling
to
reveal
intimate
details that grapple with personal
and interpersonal relationships
at their most unsettling. Bridgers
thumbtacks specific moments,
ideations and people that have
impacted her and, in many ways,
haunted her on this album.
The lyrics get so intimate and
vulnerable that they sometimes
feel as though they shouldn’t
make sense to anyone outside of
that experience. There’s a moment
on “Garden Song” I revisit often
that goes: “The doctor put her
hands over my liver / She told me
my resentment’s getting smaller.”
Lines like this have connotations
that are poignant enough to stick
around long after the song is
over. Bridgers balances the very
personal, sometimes emotionally
scarring details of her lyrics with
her soft, dreamy instrumentation
and her gentle voice.
I’ve spent nearly every day of
summer in private conversation
with Phoebe Bridgers’s Punisher.
So much so, it soundtracks
many memories for me. It’s not
that complicated: The future is
indecipherable most days, so,
much like the album, my mind
retreats to more private moments
of the past.
Diana Yassin — Daily Arts
Writer
Taylor Swift, folklore
As a shameless Swiftie, folklore
was the answer to my summer
music prayers. It wasn’t just
because one of my favorite artists
had released an album I didn’t
see coming, it was also because it
arrived just when I needed it the
most. A few days after its release,
I ended a long-term relationship
and wore “Cardigan” like a warm
blanket for the following weeks.
Its imaginative, love-sick mood
comforted me and reminded me of
why young love is such a powerful
thing. And that’s what Taylor does
best — she romanticizes love in a
way that makes us feel nostalgic
for lost relationships and missed
chances, even if we’ve never
experienced them first-hand.
Many critics say that folklore
sounds a lot like Swift’s older
music, but I have to disagree.
While I can certainly see where
they’re coming from — folklore is
more tame than Swift’s previous
releases Reputation and Lover —
the album possesses an organic
sound that we’ve never seen in
Taylor’s work before. In a moment
when the world is overwhelmed
by all of the bad things going on,
it’s nice to sit with Taylor’s soft
acoustic songs and take a moment
just to dream. folklore is a dreamy
ode to love, filled with allusions to
fairy tales and stories Swift came
up with herself for the album.
Perhaps the most striking part
of folklore is that Taylor created
the album from start to finish all
while in isolation. The fact that she
was able to write an entire album,
record it, and then market it with
a killer music video is impressive,
but this project is also a sign of
hope during these troubling times.
Even while we’re apart from the
people we love and longing for
life to return to some form of
normalcy, folklore reminds us that
there’s still a space to create and
dream.
Kaitlyn Fox — Daily Arts Writer
Music has been a crutch for
everyone during 2020. For a lot
of us, we went back and listened
to music from our childhood or
adolescent years, or even dove
head first into new types of music.
This year has been rough for
the music industry in countless,
unimaginable ways. Inevitably,
music
persists,
adapting
to
change. Taylor Swift has tapped
into and thrived off of this change,
capturing this summer of solitude
with folklore.
Swift never fails to surprise
the world with her various eras,
ever-changing from album to
album. 2019’s Lover was both a
fan favorite as well as a critical
success. It was arguably Swift’s
most masterful look into the
beauty of love, which many know
was inspired by her long term
partner, Joe Alwyn.
folklore was a bigger Swift
surprise
than
usual,
to
say
the least. One of the biggest
departures from her last two
albums, reputation and Lover,
folklore is everything Taylor Swift
hadn’t done yet. The album is
simple and digestible. It has some
of Swift’s most powerful lyrics and
showcases her wildly impressive
vocal range. The understated
aesthetic of the album, from the
simple cover to the lowercase
stylization of the song titles,
makes the beauty of each song
stand out more. Swift has taken
a step back from the spotlight on
this album, leaving each song to
speak for itself without any of the
drama or glitz of her 2017 and 2019
releases.
The album itself is raw, but
it really came out at the perfect
time. A breakup-esque, escapist
album in the middle of a pandemic
is something the world needed.
Who better to get it from than
Swift, the girl who writes about
love and heartbreak better than
anyone else?
Giselle Ciulla — Daily Arts
Writer
Deerhoof, Future Teenage
Cave Artists
If there was any band that could
pull off a concept album about the
youth population living through
an absurdist’s post-apocalyptic
world, it would be Deerhoof.
The experimental rock group
hailing from San Francisco has
been going on for more than two
decades at this point, and they
aren’t getting any easier to define
stylistically. With Future Teenage
Cave Artists, they moved towards
a more narrative approach.
The
brilliant
songwriting
and texture play is what really
allows the concept to come alive.
The atmosphere can only be
described as a cross between an
“Adventure Time” episode on
acid and a Hieronymus Bosch
hellscape. The guitar tones, of
which there are numerous across
the album, vary from downright
face-melting
to
grotesquely
playful. The drums are played in
such a drunken haphazardness
that it leaves the listener either
in awe of the talent or concerned
for the drummer’s wellbeing. Add
the iconic high pitched singing of
Satomi Matsuzaki and what’s left
is a final product that both excites
and unnerves.
Perhaps the best part about
Future Teenage Cave Artists is
that it isn’t reliant on its narrative
to be great. While it’s true that
the stylistic choices they made
create a world, it isn’t totally
obvious at first what that world
is. The greatest indicator might
be the title itself. After several
listens, it slowly becomes more
clear what the band is trying to
communicate. As amazing as
Deerhoof is at building a dystopian
world that blurs the line between
fun and nightmarish, they are just
as great at crafting a collection
of absurd rock and pop bangers.
Honestly, there might not be a
better summer for it.
Drew Gadbois — Daily Arts
Writer
The Chicks, Gaslighter
In
the
same
manner
as
Beyonce’s Lemonade, Gaslighter
is
a
chronological,
sonically
explorative case study of a broken
relationship. The “girl who left
the tights” on lead singer Natalie
Maines’ boat, a recurring motif
on the record, might as well be the
countrified “Becky with the good
hair.” title track.
DAILY MUSIC WRITERS
Daily Arts Writer
Read more online at
michigandaily.com