Albums: Sea Change

This is the first in a series of posts on music albums that have heavily influenced my life.

One of the most complicated times of my relatively short life so far was during the winter of 2012. This is a time of my life that I haven’t really discussed on this blog previously — I’ve alluded to it every now and then — since it has never seemed appropriate nor relevant. My junior year of high school was certainly a long time ago, and the deep emotional divides and social turmoils that marked it have long passed. Those wounds have healed, and that story is best left to late night reflections and beachside recollections.

I can’t really discuss this album without at least divulging some essential background information. I experienced my first break-up in December 2012. It was understandably difficult — as it would be for any young, overly optimistic teenager — yet it was compounded by the fact that a very good friend of mine decided to pursue my ex-girlfriend mere days after the fact. It didn’t take long for a complex love triangle to form between the three of us, with all of the associated emotional strain such conflict creates. These were tense times, and beyond the awkwardness of being a high school student in the middle of a romantic drama, there was a truly heart-wrenching sense of despair that followed me around for weeks. Not only was I about to permanently lose the first girl I had ever really cared about, it was about to be to a guy that I considered pretty damn close to me. Such egregious violations of the bro code were considered unacceptable then and are still unacceptable today, so many months later. In retrospect the entire situation was vastly overblown and hyperbolic, but what else would you expect from a bunch of romantically-inexperienced high school juniors? In many ways it was a disaster that was difficult to avoid.

I don’t remember how I first discovered Beck. Regardless, his pinnacle achievement, Sea Change, was an album that resonated strongly with me at the time. Sea Change is the quintessential breakup album. Its twelve songs rely on the consistently crisp, clean sound of the acoustic guitar, exerting as much brazen melancholy as possible. I really enjoy the tone of the guitar on this album for its brutal simplicity — reverb and other effects are used sporadically and conservatively, resulting in a sound that essentially parallels what you’d hear if you played the guitar yourself (indeed, I know this from experience). It’s very bare and upfront, but this also makes it incredibly refreshing — this is uninhibited, straight-to-the-heart acoustic rock. Beck’s song structures also follow this same philosophy: most of the songs use simple 4/4 chord progressions based on your usual collection of major and minor chords; the silky basslines provide a satisfying thickness where the acoustic doesn’t reach; the beats are basic with subtle accents; the choruses are catchy and memorable. I don’t want to give the impression that this album has a bare sound, however — there is some truly lush and incredible instrumentation besides the acoustic guitar. Various keyboards play large roles in many songs, such as “End of the Day,” providing a moody electronic sound that complements the drums and guitar. The xylophone is present on many of the album’s songs, creating a lullaby atmosphere that highlights the emotional fragility of Beck’s mournful lyrics — and electric guitars sometimes supplement or replace the xylophone’s high-pitched melodies. Violins and cellos are the other major stringed instruments on Sea Change, and both are utilized in a wide variety of ways. For example, “Paper Tiger” relies heavily on a start-and-stop chorus of violins that soars high over the other instruments — it is one of the few songs that completely lacks acoustic guitar. Other songs, such as “It’s All in Your Mind”, use stringed instruments to thicken the mid-range, dampening the sonic atmosphere. One final interesting effect is Beck’s use of modified vocal samples — this can be heard clearly at the beginning of “Lost Cause”. These chopped up, reversed harmonies really add to the airy, cathartic nature of the album. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s so compelling about these sounds, but they complement the emotional theme.

Equally important to the instrumentation is the lyricism, which was obviously the characteristic that really drew me into the album. Beck describes both contemporary turmoil and fantasy-like scenes of escape. Again, it’s a breakup album, so the content of most of the songs is pretty obvious: declarations of sadness, regret and tiredness. Some of these statements are more poignant than others. An outstanding example — and one that has truly stuck with me through the years — is “The Golden Age”, the album’s absolutely heartbreaking opener. The lyrics are simple but complement any lonely late-night drive through the suburbs:

Put your hands on the wheel
Let the golden age begin
Let the window down
Feel the moonlight on your skin
Let the desert wind
Cool your aching head
Let the weight of the world
Drift away instead

These day I barely get by
I don’t even try

It’s a treacherous road
With a desolated view
There’s distant lights
But here they’re far and few
And the sun don’t shine
Even when its day
You gotta drive all night
Just to feel like you’re ok

These days I barely get by
I don’t even try

I can’t think of another song that has so perfectly described my desire for escape. Maybe it’s the whole infrastructure thing, but I find the image of an empty desert road — and the concept of driving into the distance — incredibly comforting. This is a song that I’ve played and sang on the beach at sunset, staring into the Gulf of Mexico while sitting on the hood of my car. It’s that sort of song, so incredibly cathartic and releasing that it makes me feel like I’m evaporating.

“Lose Cause” also stands out to me — although it’s a simple song both lyrically and structurally, it does a damn good job of conveying that sense of wanting to give up but not quite being able to.

There’s too many people you used to know
They see you coming, they see you go
They know your secrets and you know theirs
This town is crazy; nobody cares

Also near to me are two other songs near the end of the album, “Sunday Sun” and “Little One”. “Sunday Sun” sounds like the title — it’s a bittersweet tune with a slow tempo that mimics the pace of an uneventful Sunday. This is the sort of song that I would put on after a long day (or week) of rolling with the punches.

Jealous minds walk in a line
And their faces jade the strain
Stranded in infinity rooms
And they’re safe from any harm

There’s no other ending
Sunday sun
Yesterdays are mending
Sunday sun

“Little One” returns to that desire for escape, yet also provides a comforting message that reassures me of the healing power of time.

Go to sleep
We’re so tired now
Altogether in a snake pit of souls
New days
To throw your chains away
To try to hang your hopes on the wind

Little one
Just a little way
Today all we need is waiting

Drown, drown
Sailors run aground
In a sea change nothing is safe
Strange waves
Push us every way
In a stolen boat we’ll float away

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I’m not afraid to say that this is an album I’ve legitimately cried to at least once. I can’t listen to this album today without having vivid recollections of that dark moment in my past. Nothing is as bad as it seems, but I can still recall all of the crushingly lonely moments I had where this album was my only companion. Sea Change also pushed me to teach myself to sing (at least to the extent that I’m comfortable showing a select few people), a skill I’m still trying to develop. Beck doesn’t have the world’s most amazing or unique voice, but his range is accessible and his songs are too fucking catchy. This album really helped me through some difficult moments. The breakup occurred at a debate tournament, of all places. The memory is fresh in my mind. Disoriented and distraught, I wandered to my car and began driving home. It was late at night; traffic was nonexistent and the horizon was sprinkled with traffic lights and quiet houses. As I navigated through the obscure reaches of Texan suburbia, this album soothed my wounds. It was the only thing that I could hear. I took all of my emotional baggage — all of the extreme sadness of a first failed relationship — and poured it into these twelve songs. I sang along, as loud as I could, pushing past the primal desire to just completely break down. Over the following weeks, this album followed me everywhere I went. I used it to heal myself at the end of each long, stressful day. Sea Change never truly convinced me that things would get better — even though they did in the end — but it shared in my despair and helped me clarify exactly what I was feeling. Sometimes you just need to find the comfort in being sad.

Things eventually fixed themselves up, and Sea Change faded from my daily listening habits. It’s just one of those albums you really have to be sad to experience fully. I’m not quite in that same state of mind at the moment, but I have found myself coming back to Sea Change over the past couple of weeks. It provides a comfort and basic understanding that just makes the world a little more bearable and my own emotional turmoil a little more legitimate. I owe a lot to this album, and I cherish the memories that it’s become glued to, as depressing as they are. Whenever all hope seems lost, I can turn to Sea Change. No other album cures a broken heart so perfectly.

Happiness is a Warm Gun

This month has been an especially difficult one. For the past few weeks I’ve been nearly consumed by a potent mix of anxiety, anger and sadness. While this has been a running theme ever since I was in middle school, it reached a different level of intensity this time around. I can’t really pinpoint where it came from; it hit me like a brick and knocked me down. Until now I was just struggling to find happiness and justice. I was thinking in absolutes and dealing out nothing but spite and regret. The way I see it, this was just the tipping point of months and months of the same three things: anxiety, despair and hatred. I let myself become consumed by these emotions, and not only did it hurt me, but also those around me. Sure, there were those periods of happiness, but they were always overtaken by my negative worldview at some point or another.

Yesterday I finally realized this simply could not continue. Finally, the logic of happiness clicked in my head. Of course, it’s a bit premature to suddenly declare myself happy and assume it’ll always be that way. It won’t. But I think I finally understand why I should be happy, and the benefits it has for me. In the past happiness was always just a goal, a fleeting emotion that I just assumed came and went with stretches of negativity in between. I never really saw it as an actual way of living or something that I should strive to become. So I wasn’t happy.

I’m not saying that I should try ignoring all my other emotions and pretend to live in some alternate universe where everything is alright all of the time. It’s alright to be sad, to be mad. But those shouldn’t be permanent fixtures of my life, or enduring strains on my conscious. Ultimately, negativity must pass. Being angry and sad doesn’t solve problems, or fix anything. Sure, they’re natural reactions to things, but those reactions are supposed to be momentary, not lasting. It’s when you hold onto negativity that it ruins you. Not only that, but it brings you down to the level of the people you hate in the first place.

Obviously, this blog is a record of my hatred for certain people. This month there were two individuals who I came to hate with a burning passion. I thought they had wronged me on a fundamentally immoral level, and that the lack of “justice” dealt to them by the universe (or God, or society) was unacceptable. I figured they would have to pay for what they did. So I held onto that anger; I let it slowly develop inside of me until it reached levels I had never experienced before. I dehumanized them, made them out to be absolute embodiments of evil that had to be completely destroyed.

Yet in doing that, I was reducing myself to their levels. My two former friends are people who, in different ways, have held onto their hate. In the case of Ian, he simply dislikes people and lets his prejudice and egotism control his mindset. In the case of the other guy, he probably feels about as wronged as I did, and has decided to hate me simply for being in his way. I can’t let myself become swallowed up by that same philosophy – that I have to hate people. Will I ever be able to tolerate the things that they did? No. Will I ever fully forgive either of them? Maybe not. But there is no point in actively hating them. It doesn’t achieve anything and, ultimately, is a dead end. If this anger continues unabated, nothing will satisfy it. It’s not like the world is suddenly going to make everything right for me or fulfill my sense of justice. And, in the case of Ian, he wants me to be angry. He wants to annoy me and get under my skin. Why should I let him do that? In the end, I shouldn’t let myself become consumed by them. Bad things happened in the past, yes – but it’s all history now, and it would only be reasonable to move forward and better myself as a person, instead of ruining any emotional stability I have by instigating old conflicts.

And when it comes to the things I miss, I’ve been considering those in the wrong way as well. Some of the most beautiful and memorable moments of my life happened this year. I experienced things that I would never trade for anything in the world. I really can’t describe how incredibly lucky I was to be able to live out those occasions. So, of course, it’s natural that I miss those moments. Yet recently I’ve let a simple nostalgia for the things I don’t have anymore explode into these bouts of depression and sadness. Yes, things are not the same – but it’s not like I’ll never, ever experience these past moments again. Life has only just begun. I turn 18 in a week, finally a legal adult and on the cusp of entering the real world. Things are very far from over. Indeed, that stupid cliche “the grass is always greener on the other side” really does apply here. The past had its amazing moments that I will remember for many years to come. However, in fantasizing over those great times, I forget that things weren’t always peachy. There was still conflict, still anxiety and sadness. Those things have been part of my life for a very long time now. Pretending that everything was perfect before only makes the present seem fucking awful. That’s not the reality of it, though. If I ever want to experience those blissful moments again, I have to work for them and move forward.

Allowing myself to become nothing but a walking bag of emotions also makes me unattractive to other people. It harms the relationships I have. I don’t want to be that person who’s always depressed in some way or another, off by himself listening to sad songs in a corner somewhere. I also don’t want to be that guy that always offloads his emotional conflicts onto his good friends, expecting them to solve his problems entirely. Still, recently, that’s the kind of person I’ve been acting like. I’m simply pushing away the people I want to be close to, in a way. I’m basically shoving everything negative about myself in their faces, flaunting my negativity instead of my positivity. If I want people to be great friends of mine, I have to work to be the kind of person they’d want to spend time around. I’ve gotta help them in all the ways I can, instead of making my problems their problems.

And my problems have almost always been overreactions, even when grounded in truth. The greatest fears that I have developed over the past few weeks simply aren’t going to happen. My negativity caused me to always assume the worst. In a way, I began viewing other people as androids instead of actual human beings. I figured that they would always think and act with one mindset, and that if they were inclined to do something in the past, they were bound to do it again in the future. I forgot that other people can think for themselves, and have the same emotions that I do. Life isn’t as dramatic as I made it out to be. Even the single greatest fear I had beforehand doesn’t seem like it is actually going to happen. Ultimately, that fear was a selfish one as well. It’s none of my business, and something I have no control over. So I won’t worry about it. I have no real reason to.

So I think I’ve found a new way to look at the world. I was feeling my absolute worst yesterday – but then it just changed. Something connected in my head. I don’t know, but I honestly feel better about myself today than I have for a while. There’s still a long road ahead, and undoubtedly more problems will arise. Yet I think I can handle them now. I just have to remind myself to keep a positive outlook, to better myself. Happiness can do so much for me, yet I never even thought I could really hold onto it.

At least now, I find myself smiling a bit more.

Being the enemy

Somebody hates me, and I’m not really sure how I should interpret it.

Nobody should really expect to make it through life without a fair share of adversaries and enemies, unless you’re willing to create so complacent an existence that it can hardly be called a life at all. There are people who are fundamentally incompatible with others. Some personality types naturally repel each other and create resentment. Humanity isn’t simple enough to be devoid of hate and narcissism. Even the kindest, least confrontational individuals are doing something wrong in somebody’s mind. I’m surely not one of those flawless, wholesomely good people – but I try my best not to agitate others. I toy with the idea of being that guy that everybody can at least tolerate, and preferably befriend.

Maybe this is based on a belief that everybody thinks “rationally,” whatever the hell that means. I’m definitely not some ulta logical person. My emotions infiltrate my mind as much as the next person. Still, when it comes to the conflict that’s created this animosity towards me, I believe it’s pretty black and white. Something happened, and the actions speak for themselves. The person who hates me, as I see it, made a fundamentally wrong decision. Not only that, but he did it with full warning and knowledge of the potential (and overwhelmingly probable) outcome of the situation. He put himself there and he expects me to be apologetic about it. I didn’t intend for things to turn out the way they did, and I had just as much control over the situation as he did – things just didn’t end up in his favor, as he should’ve expected.  I don’t see how it can be spinned any other way. And I certainly don’t see how I’m deserving of the labels I’ve heard have been applied to me: hypocrite. Douchebag. Piece of shit.

Now, I’m not talking about people I’ve mentioned previously on this blog – like Ian. I expect them to hate me, and in a way I’m glad they do. Those are people who are irreconcilable, who have personalities that cause them to default to resentment and egotistical smugness. When I stopped being friends with them, I anticipated the hate and knew that their feelings would be based purely on stupidity and selfishness, and not an actual judgement of my character. So that’s okay.

But this person, who I’ve never talked about before. I don’t know how to react to him actually hating me. It’s weird because I see this guy on a daily basis at school, and while we haven’t been friends or even talked for almost nine months now, I never got the impression he actively despised me. I knew we weren’t on good terms, but I assumed it was just the way the cookie crumbles – people move on, drift apart. But no, he’s been holding this against me all this time, making me an enemy for reasons I simply don’t understand.

Even though I’ve been reassured of not having done anything wrong, I still feel like I have. I can’t find his path of reasoning. What did I do that was hypocritical? How do I act like a douche? I’m already kind of self-conscious about the way I present myself to my peers. I try not to be pretentious. I don’t want to be annoying, too loud or obnoxious. I don’t want to come off as stupid or uncaring. Even though I try to be myself, part of my daily interactions with people is a balancing game in the back of my mind. I think it’s probably like that for most people, but it weighs on me uniquely because I’ve historically been a guy with few, if any friends.

So I guess it’s another thing to think about. Somebody hates me, and they have a reason why. It may not be a good reason – it could easily be one based in misguided anger, fabrications and illogic. But his reason has to exist, otherwise the hate itself wouldn’t. And I’ll never know exactly why. It’s probably because I was an obstacle. He wanted something that I was in the way of. But it wasn’t because I blocked him – I was already there. He made the decision to betray me for his own personal gain, and to enter a situation I told him would have costs. So maybe the reason he hates me is because I was there, I existed where it would’ve been more convenient for him if I didn’t.

But I don’t know that for sure, and I can’t help but worry that I’ve done something wrong myself. Everybody has their biases. Am I looking at this objectively, or through my own lens? It helps that others have agreed with me, but it doesn’t absolve the burden of having someone out there who really hates me. I know I’m not as good as I’d like to be. It’s possible I’ve committed my own sins that I’ve never acknowledged. Still, this is one of the only situations in my life where I’m completely convinced of what happened, who was wrong and who was innocent. So where does the hatred originate from? Why do I deserve it?

It’s probably better to just keep on living. People will hate, and hate is an abstract thing. In scenarios like this one, it’s not based right and wrong – instead, it comes from creating simple, self-serving justice in an unbenevolent world.