Hello there
I hope you’ve been well.
Lately I’ve been thinking about how the year of our Lord 2021 is the year of the mirage. Of the couldhavebeens scattered before our eyes only to be disappointed with the slow development of events around us. Expecting that things would be better, calmer, more normal. Only to realise that retrograde is a normal state of events, and things DO happen (shocking) outside of our control.
It’s been a tiring twelve months as they are quick, and I’m not saying this because I am getting older (a valid reason too) but because just like most of you, every day has become a constant struggle for survival. It’s when you wake up every morning in the same silent room and ponder over the other possibilities in your bland existence, all the other yearnings, the minutiae of your current life that bores you to death. Then realising that these thoughts are a privilege still. That you live comfortably (in the most material sense), and tragedies are few and far between. Then you deem that it’s easier for the humdrum to become an echo amidst AND because of the silence and that when you talk about survival, what you really mean is to stop yourself from drowning in that hush. You conclude that loneliness could really kill you.
I thought of leaving this year. So many fucking times. To disappear from everyone’s eyes and live somewhere where I could simply do the things I like—write, garden, read, learn to read sheet music. But, there are things you can’t just leave behind. Departure is always a struggle between keeping and losing, and we still live in a capitalist/consumerist world that doesn’t put a premium. on idealism. I have so much respect for people who muster the courage to overcome this struggle.
Hence the life-shaking import of music. There’s the catharsis, sure. How it allows you to intensify the emotions you’re currently feeling until you burst into flames and then regroup. But also there’s its ability to offer you some company like an unprejudiced friend. That when things get tough, you could just put your earphones on and disappear for a while without any judgment. Without any care. You could look at the mirage, and the mirage would play before you like a marvellous montage, and life—even if not real—becomes a little bit better. Because, sometimes, all it takes to survive is to let go of all the care you have in your body. To sit back, relax, and pretend to disappear.
I made this playlist here (TWENTY TWENTY WHAT - SONGS OF A YEAR) with Hailey—the baddest b in the UK right now—as kind of an annual tradition. Kind of a summative exercise. This playlist—just like any other—has a rule. Pick ten songs, released this year, that live rent-free in your mind. This year, just like last year, is an eclectic bunch. From pop royalties like Olivia Rodrigo to Korean indie singers like Min Su to 1990s heartstoppers Drop Nineteens. There’s the bubblegum pop of Caroline Polachek’s Bunny Is A Rider, Japanese Breakfast’s ode to yearning with Kokomo, IN, Tyler the Creator’s swoon-worthy WUSYANAME, and Cassandra Jenkins’s and Low Roar’s purifying lyricism with Hard Drive and Patience.
When Hailey sent her list to me, ten days after I reminded her, she made a caveat. Most of the songs here were not released in 2021, she said. A blatant disrespect of the rules, I thought. But I don’t care, she added, complete with the HAHAHAs, probably typing the message in her Liverpool flat with her best impression of an Apathetic Queen. I remembered how she mustered all the courage to move a new place this year amidst all the uncertainties.
She doesn’t care, I repeated as I looked at her list of songs.I laughed as I nonchalantly added the songs to our playlist. It’s as if she’s been thinking the same thing I’ve been ruminating on the most part of the year. Complete with the HAHAHAs.
Fair enough, I thought. Very fair enough.
I then started playing the songs on shuffle, on repeat, out loud. Outside, it was both quiet and warm. The curtains blocked the sunlight from entering my room as they always did. My space was dark and cold, but it was okay.
much love,
allen