Election Fever Recovery: Getting My Anti-Establishment Groove Back

Just completed a very long work day and there were a lot of lows and highs. I woke up this morning feeling kind of miserable and panicky. To be honest, my initial reaction to this week's big news was somewhat calm initially. I mean I was angry in ways that were hard to articulate but I was still feeling pretty hopeful. Today I woke up and every bit of serenity I had vanished into thin air.

It's hard to truly explain where my head has gone and the weird sense of despair that keeps taking over me. The truth is I was never one of Hillary’s big supporters – never have been, never will be. And while I know so many people are probably ready to jump down my throat and start pointing fingers at me, saying people like me are the reason that Trump’s impending presidency happened, I need you all to calm down and understand that many people of color that I know and have talked to about Hillary Clinton agree with me. Every time someone sings her praises – for even I will admit that the Idea of Hillary Clinton is pretty good on paper – I will never be able to get past “super predators” and her (and the Democratic Party’s) dismissiveness of the Black Lives Matter movement. I cannot even get into the crime bill shit show of the 90s because that deserves its own separate post but I will say that Clinton did a lot to earn the distrust of people of color, particularly in poor black communities.

That being said, I realized something early on in this campaign season. Whenever I would try to say any of the above, I would get shut down – angrily and vehemently – mostly by my privileged white liberal friends. I’m just going to be as real as possible right now and I’m going to hope that I am not attacked for it. I love my passionate liberal friends and share similar ideals as them in so many ways. I understand why they gravitated towards Hillary and I didn’t hate them for it. But a weird shift happened at a certain point…. suddenly, somehow if you didn’t want to vote for Hillary, you were privileged and were considered part of the “problem.” I experienced this first hand so I learned to subdue my opinions and quietly express my reservations to like-minded friends only.  I allowed my voice to be squashed. And eventually a weird sort of acceptance happened – not that I suddenly loved Hillary, but I started to… think… maybe she IS the only option at this point?

And obviously so much of those feelings also come from a place where I have had to watch (first hand) the media circus lift up Donald Trump again and again, treat him like a joke, like entertainment. And again and again, he would do or say things so reviled that my anti-establishment brain softened and even I started to see Hillary’s appeal. And yet there was that nagging thing in the back of my brain that wouldn’t ever go away….

I’m saying all this because Donald Trump is a problem and I hate that he is the President of the United States because this country really MEANS something to me…. but I’m angry that no one wants to have a deeper discussion about why Hillary didn’t nail down the black vote and what her role has been to the black community. Even typing that now, I can already feel many of you getting fired up – outraged because OBVIOUSLY Donald Trump is worse and any other opinion is ignorant and short-sighted. But this is worth a complex discussion and we need to stop talking in terms of “this side is right and that side is wrong”. And honestly, I think it’s time we all really evaluated how this country’s “democracy” is really working out for us.

I’ve been ambivalent through a lot of this election, truth be told, up until about a month or so ago. Then, like with most people, election madness set in and I started to feel very stressed and constantly on edge. Election fatigue hit me really hard, guys. I mean, here’s the thing: I genuinely consider myself to be a patriot. I say this without irony: I am frustrated by this country a lot of the time but I have always felt pride in being an American. Or… at least I did?

Now this brings me to my point – the pain I am currently going through. Today I listened to the latest episode of Politically Re-Active (a fantastic podcast that I truly recommend to all of you out there) and it wasn’t until then that I realized why I’ve been taking these election results so hard. One of the hosts, Hari (my comedy love), mentioned recently that he was voting for Jill Stein. Flash forward: Hillary loses the election and everyone loses their shit. Since then listeners apparently have decided to blame Hari personally for Hillary’s loss and have attacked him and his character. Hari, a New York voter, felt confident about NY swinging to Clinton so decided to go the third party route in order to legitimize the Green Party, which is more aligned with his ideology – and he was CRUCIFIED for it. I hear so often from progressives that we need to start finding a way to dismantle the crazy two party system that we are strapped to but here is a person who takes a small step towards making that happen in his own way and he’s punished for it. And what were the stakes? Hillary won New York by a landslide. Just the IDEA of thinking differently and moving against the current is upsetting, I guess. ACTUAL steps toward progress are sneered at and there are always excuses for why "this isn't the time". And people are so quick to either forget or ignore the failings of our leaders and to continue to put our trust in systems that have largely worked against most of us.

And there it is – I became guilty of the very thing I spend so much time railing against. I allowed myself to believe in the system again, for just a moment in time, and it blew up in my face. Not because Hillary lost, not because Donald was elected president, not because America has too many angry white people holding our country hostage – the most damaging part was I let myself believe in the same machine that inflicted our horrific criminal justice system on us, that uses the housing market and unholy relationship with developers to wipe out communities of color and cultural hubs, that have put little to no accountability on the law enforcement that have waged a war against my black brothers and sisters, that tell women what they’re allowed to do with their bodies, that oppresses us from a very young age and teaches us the importance of compliance. There are a lot of terrible, frightening things about Donald Trump being President – things that have been swimming in my mind since yesterday, like his picking a Supreme Court Justice, his disregard for climate change and the environment, his rampant islamophobia and sexism – but it’s the system that we are all so easy to trust that allowed this to happen in the first place.

When the reality of our situation settled in, I felt betrayed. Deeply and soulfully.

But now that I’ve identified the source of my pain, I feel fired up. And also, I allowed myself to remember that this was the year of the most brilliant prison strike – events that showed us that resistance can accomplish such good things. There was also significant growth in the Black Lives Matter group. People became aware of the epidemic that is police brutality in a way they hadn't been aware of before (at least people not of color) and some amazing conversations have started to finally happen. And a diverse cluster of badass women were elected into a few of our country’s highest offices – which despite my feelings towards our government, I still believe is a wonderful achievement.

Anyway I’m not sure what my next steps are but I do know that I’m glad that I took a day to wallow about the state of this country because I needed it. However, I am gladder that I have gotten my perspective back and feel a certain optimism again – because you know what? We probably have some tough times ahead and there are some major setbacks but if we all become a little more organized, thoughtful and empathetic we can figure this shit out and we can continue to take positive steps forward. People are good and want to do good. And the angry white people – the Trumpeteers – who voted the Orange One into Presidency don’t speak for us and we shouldn’t allow them to drown out our voices.

And I, personally, will never allow someone to drown out my voice again – not even people whom I care for. It’s hard to push back when you believe in something that others don’t and it’s easy to just pull back in order to avoid causing any waves – but that is doing a disservice to yourself and to the people around you and to the society that you want to help build.

Kudos if you read all this. I don’t expect most people to agree with most of what I have to say but I do hope you can respect my opinions and the spirt in which they were given. Much love to you all and don’t worry… everything will be okay. Weed was legalized in a bunch of places. Bowie’s legacy still lives on. Nutella still exists. And I mean, fuck…. 2016 has to end eventually, right?

And I will conclude this never ending post with a quote from the ever-popular Hamilton musical:

Those who stand for nothing fall for anything.

Much love,
N

Election Fever Recovery: Getting My Anti-Establishment Groove Back

Just completed a very long work day and there were a lot of lows and highs. I woke up this morning feeling kind of miserable and panicky. To be honest, my initial reaction to this week's big news was somewhat calm initially. I mean I was angry in ways that were hard to articulate but I was still feeling pretty hopeful. Today I woke up and every bit of serenity I had vanished into thin air.

It's hard to truly explain where my head has gone and the weird sense of despair that keeps taking over me. The truth is I was never one of Hillary’s big supporters – never have been, never will be. And while I know so many people are probably ready to jump down my throat and start pointing fingers at me, saying people like me are the reason that Trump’s impending presidency happened, I need you all to calm down and understand that many people of color that I know and have talked to about Hillary Clinton agree with me. Every time someone sings her praises – for even I will admit that the Idea of Hillary Clinton is pretty good on paper – I will never be able to get past “super predators” and her (and the Democratic Party’s) dismissiveness of the Black Lives Matter movement. I cannot even get into the crime bill shit show of the 90s because that deserves its own separate post but I will say that Clinton did a lot to earn the distrust of people of color, particularly in poor black communities.

That being said, I realized something early on in this campaign season. Whenever I would try to say any of the above, I would get shut down – angrily and vehemently – mostly by my privileged white liberal friends. I’m just going to be as real as possible right now and I’m going to hope that I am not attacked for it. I love my passionate liberal friends and share similar ideals as them in so many ways. I understand why they gravitated towards Hillary and I didn’t hate them for it. But a weird shift happened at a certain point…. Somehow if you didn’t want to vote for Hillary, you were privileged and were considered part of the “problem.” I experienced this first hand so I learned to subdue my opinions and quietly express my reservations to like-minded friends only.  I allowed my voice to be squashed. And eventually a weird sort of acceptance happened – not that I suddenly loved Hillary, but I started to… think… maybe she IS the only option at this point?

And obviously so much of those feelings also come from a place where I have had to watch (first hand) the media circus lift up Donald Trump again and again, treat him like a joke, like entertainment. And again and again, he would do or say things so reviled that my anti-establishment brain softened and even I started to see Hillary’s appeal. And yet there was that nagging thing in the back of my brain that wouldn’t ever go away….

I’m saying all this because Donald Trump is a problem and I hate that he is the President of the United States because this country really MEANS something to me…. but I’m angry that no one wants to have a deeper discussion about why Hillary didn’t nail down the black vote and what her role has been to the black community. Even typing that now, I can already feel many of you getting fired up – outraged because OBVIOUSLY Donald Trump is worse and any other opinion is ignorant and short-sighted. But this is worth a complex discussion and we need to stop talking in terms of “this side is right and that side is wrong”. And honestly, I think it’s time we all really evaluated how this country’s “democracy” is really working out for us.

I’ve been ambivalent through a lot of this election, truth be told, up until about a month or so ago. Then, like with most people, election madness set in and I started to feel very stressed and constantly on edge. Election fatigue hit me really hard, guys. I mean, here’s the thing: I genuinely consider myself to be a patriot. I say this without irony: I am frustrated by this country a lot of the time but I have always felt pride in being an American. Or… at least I did?

Now this brings me to my point – the pain I am currently going through. Today I listened to the latest episode of Politically Re-Active (a fantastic podcast that I truly recommend to all of you out there) and it wasn’t until then that I realized why I’ve been taking these election results so hard. One of the hosts, Hari (my comedy love), mentioned recently that he was voting for Jill Stein. Flash forward: Hillary loses the election and everyone loses their shit. Since then listeners apparently have decided to blame Hari personally for Hillary’s loss and have attacked him and his character. Hari, a New York voter, felt confident about NY swinging to Clinton so decided to go the third party route in order to legitimize the Green Party, which is more aligned with his ideology – and he was CRUCIFIED for it. I hear so often from progressives that we need to start finding a way to dismantle the crazy two party system that we are strapped to but here is a person who takes a small step towards making that happen in his own way and he’s punished for it. And what were the stakes? Hillary won New York by a landslide. Just the IDEA of thinking differently and moving against the current is upsetting, I guess. ACTUAL steps toward progress are sneered at. And people are so quick to either forget or ignore the failings of our leaders and to continue to put our trust in systems that have largely worked against most of us.

And there it is – I became guilty of the very thing I spend so much time railing against. I allowed myself to believe in the system again, for just a moment in time, and it blew up in my face. Not because Hillary lost, not because Donald was elected president, not because America has too many angry white people holding our country hostage – the most damaging part was I let myself believe in the same machine that inflicted our horrific criminal justice system on us, that uses the housing market and unholy relationship with developers to wipe out communities of color and cultural hubs, that have put little to no accountability on the law enforcement that have waged a war against my black brothers and sisters, that tell women what they’re allowed to do with their bodies, that oppresses us from a very young age and teaches us the importance of compliance. There are a lot of terrible, frightening things about Donald Trump being President – things that have been swimming in my mind since yesterday, like his picking a Supreme Court Justice, his disregard for climate change and the environment, his rampant islamophobia and sexism – but it’s the system that we are all so easy to trust that allowed this to happen in the first place.

When the reality of our situation settled in, I felt betrayed. Deeply and soulfully.

But now that I’ve identified the source of my pain, I feel fired up. And also, I allowed myself to remember that this was the year of the most brilliant prison strike – events that showed us that resistance can accomplish such good things. There was also significant growth in the Black Lives Matter group. People became aware of the epidemic that is police brutality in a way they hadn't been aware before (at least people not of color) and some amazing conversations have started to finally happen. And a diverse cluster of badass women were elected into a few of our country’s highest offices – which despite my feelings towards our government, I still believe is a wonderful achievement.

Anyway I’m not sure what my next steps are but I do know that I’m glad that I took a day to wallow about the state of this country because I needed it. However, I am gladder that I have gotten my perspective back and feel a certain optimism again – because you know what? We probably have some tough times ahead and there are some major setbacks but if we all become a little more organized, thoughtful and empathetic we can figure this shit out and we can continue to take positive steps forward. People are good and want to do good. And the angry white people – the Trumpeteers – who voted the Orange One into Presidency don’t speak for us and we shouldn’t allow them to drown out our voices.

And I, personally, will never allow someone to drown out my voice again – not even people whom I care for. It’s hard to push back when you believe in something that others don’t and it’s easy to just pull back in order to avoid causing any waves – but that is doing a disservice to yourself and to the people around you and to the society that you want to help build.

Kudos if you read all this. I don’t expect most people to agree with most of what I have to say but I do hope you can respect my opinions and the spirt in which they were given. Much love to you all and don’t worry… everything will be okay. Weed was legalized in a bunch of places. Bowie’s legacy still lives on. Nutella still exists. And I mean, fuck…. 2016 has to end eventually, right?

And I will conclude this never ending post with a quote from the ever-popular Hamilton musical:

Those who stand for nothing fall for anything.

Much love,
N

Two Years Later: Trying to Live My Best Life

Update: I’m busy as hell and this summer has been chaotic. But! I was able to sneak away to Rehoboth for a week and the beach is always a nice break from the craziness.

I really needed the ocean waves to heal me (even though they also dropped me on my ass a few times) because I’ve had some heavy things on my mind. Summer has become kind of a rough time for me in general for reasons I’ve mentioned in other posts. But to be clear, today is the anniversary of my father’s passing. It’s so weird to say that still. It still feels really new somehow. Almost unreal, like he’s still around but I just haven’t talked to him in a while. Every once in a while when I’m speaking to someone new and parents come up in conversation, it’s difficult to find the words. Like, how do you casually tell someone your father is dead without stopping the conversation cold? Those are the weird things I struggle with.

You know, I recently watched that new Netflix show, Stranger Things (which, by the way, is fantastic and you should go watch immediately) and there is a scene where the police chief is asked about his daughter and he says something like, “She lives with her mom in the city.” He walks away and the person he was talking to was informed that his daughter actually passed away. Sorry for the minor spoiler there but I really, this captures that experience so perfectly because there’s no guidebook on how and when you tell something like this to another person. But not acknowledging it seems…. like a dishonor somehow? And dishonest.

Once, at work, I had a newer colleague ask me what my dad does for a living and where he’s living these days. I paused for a half a second and I honestly considered just saying he was in California (which isn’t really a lie – his ashes were spread along the Pacific Coastline) because I didn’t really want to him to look at me with pity in his eyes. I didn’t want to hear “I’m so sorry” and I didn’t want to have to explain what happened. But in the end, I said that my father had passed recently. I tried to sound breezy about it but I actually sounded very high pitched and the words got stuck in my throat for a beat. The guy was polite and said the standard “I’m sorry” (which I mean… as much as I have grown to hate those words, what else is someone going to say in that scenario?) but then we sort of just… moved on. There wasn’t any real weirdness and I didn’t carry that moment with me for days and days. It’s a process – finding little ways to be okay with something that is very much not okay and learning how to manage your grief in healthy manners.

The hardest moments honestly are the times it’s unexpected. When I was at the beach this summer, the group of us strolled down the boardwalk after dinner in search of ice cream and we discovered the most hilarious and random Elvis impersonator performing on the main gazebo with a bunch of back up dancers/singers and very bright lights. It was hilarious and I loved it but it also made me think of my dad, whom I have road tripped with to Las Vegas many times. He was OBSESSED with horrible Elvis impersonators and would plan an entire evening in Vegas around finding the best (or maybe worst?) ones the city had to offer. There is a whole album he had of pictures he’d taken with impersonators over the years. It was such a weird interest and the second I saw that Elvis in Rehoboth, my first thought was, “I have to text this to dad”…. and then I remembered. Those moments when I forget for half a second – those are the most brutal times. Remembering that I will never hear him laugh again or say his signature, “Well isn’t that something?”

It’s been two years. Two years. My dad has been gone for two years. How does anyone ever get used to that? He never got to see The Force Awakens. He never got to hear the music of Hamilton. He never got the opportunity to mock the British for Brexit (which he would have done with many, many terrible dad jokes, none of which I can even dream up). He and I will never spend another Thanksgiving together. We’re never again going to sit on the beach together and watch the sun rise over the Pacific Ocean. We’re never going to have another argument over which is better – French toast or waffles. (Yes, French toast is the answer. My dad was confused, clearly.)

As Chris Hardwick often talks about on his Nerdist podcast, I’m also part of the Dead Dad Club and I’m still learning how to cope with it. I got through Father’s Day without crying, which is kind of amazing. And I’ve surrounded myself with people that make me see the good in the world. This week had its ups and downs but I was able to spend time with people I care about and who fill my life with laughter. Over the weekend I will be celebrating a couple of birthdays, for two awesome people that help in keeping this crazy life of mine fun. It’s helped in making this week less somber and more of a celebration of life and appreciating what I still have to hold on to. I know it’s what my dad would want. He grew up with nothing (except the strongest and most loving mother in the world, which I guess is actually everything) and all he wanted was for me and my siblings to know that we were loved and lucky – and we should spread love and generosity to others who needed it and accept love in return. I am fiercely independent, to a fault in some ways, so the “accepting love” part can be hard for me sometimes…. but it’s something I’ve gotten better at, especially in the past few years.

I guess my point is…. today is hard. But it could be harder, so I think maybe I’m in a healthier place than I have been in the past year or two? Instead of feeling like the world is ending all over again, I’m going to do all the things my dad would want me to do today – do something generous for another person, hug my dog, watch a Star Wars movie, eat ice cream for lunch, spend quality time with my brother, celebrate life with my friends. I’m going to live the best possible version of my life today because that’s the best way I can think of to honor him. How lucky am I to have a dad who, even when he’s passed, inspires me to be happy and to do good things?

An Ode to Harley Quinn (And Why I'm a Little Nervous)

So I've been thinking a lot about the character Harley Quinn and how her character in Suicide Squad will be like.

During my free time, I've bee re-watching a lot of Batman: The Animated Series because it's a great show to just have in the background and I find it oddly comforting. I've long said - and will probably continue to say so for many more years to come - that this is the best version of Batman that has ever been made. It has it all - it's fun and savvy, with an emotional complexity that appeals to kids and adults alike, with absurd villains as well as moral questions that don't always come with easy, spoon-fed answers. Yes there is the typical good guy/bad guy narrative that you'll see in just about any comic book/superhero story but it's actually kind of surprising how many times I'd get to the end of an episode and feel torn about an outcome - or the lack of one. It's the kind of smart show I don't even feel like they make for kids anymore (but please tell me if I'm wrong).

Now, with all that being said.... I'm worried about Harley in the Suicide Squad movie, which is set to premiere in August. But I guess I have to explain her as a character a little bit in order to be clear about why I'm worried.

Harley is, without a doubt, one of the best comic creations I've ever come across. She was introduced towards the beginning of season one of the animated series and was intended as a one-shot character to never be seen again. However, she tested so well and was so immediately popular that they brought her back as Joker's permanent sidekick/on again-off again girlfriend. Her popularity and cult following grew so much that over time she was written into the DC Comics canon and was even given her own comic book series - having adventures separate from the Joker often times. What is so great about Harley is her penchant for fun above all things and her almost childlike joy when causing chaos. Her bubbly personality is infectious and it's hard not to like her even when she's doing some very, very bad things. There are characters that are firmly grounded as heroes or villains but she doesn't truly fall under either of those categories. She's alarmingly complex. Which brings me to her relationship to the Joker....

Now keep in mind when I first started watching this show, I was about 9 years old. And throughout my life, I've periodically gone back to it. And sometimes when you grow up with something, you get caught in what I like to call a "nostalgia cloud" and certain things that are troubling don't really hit you the way that they should. I stand by the statement that the animated series is fantastic but it's not without its problems. Also, I have read an extensive amount of Harley Quinn story lines in comics throughout the years and she's really been fully fleshed in this really interesting, human way. I say all this because as I have been rewatching the TV series, I've realized that the relationship depicted between herself and the Joker is.... really really hard to watch.

I'm older, I'm wiser and I've met and worked with women who are victims of abuse. And Harley Quinn is a deeply damaged and mentally ill person who is in a really horrifically abusive relationship. Now I don't think there's anything wrong with showing a person in an abusive relationship - in fact I support that 100%. Brings light to uncomfortable truths that people find difficult to face. But there's a light-heartedness to Joker's abuse of Harley that makes me feel queasy. I mean, it's very clear that the Joker is "wrong' in treating her the way he does and they even go into the background of how the relationship began (Harley was his psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum) but I'm not sure the show really made it clear how messed up that relationship actually was and why. And that "why" is very very important for young impressionable children. Even the Harley and Joker merchandising sends mixed messages. Why are they being treated like star-crossed lovers or soul mates or something? Essentially, Joker drove her to madness and then continues to mentally and physically beat her throughout their partnership. Why has that been romanticized?

Again, the comics really flesh out Harley, her story and her illness in a way that I think is real unlike almost any other character I can think of. She's very relatable and it's hard not to empathize with her (and to feel the frustration when she inevitably goes back to the Joker every time for reasons varying from wanting the change him to not feeling she's worthwhile without him). It's actually incredibly heartbreaking but it's also such an honest representation.

But.... I digress. Back to Suicide Squad. I'm really looking forward to this movie for a lot of reasons - I think this will finally be a DC Comics film I can get behind (since I loathed Man of Steel and cannot bring myself to watch its ill-reviewed sequel). I think DC Comics is doing their best with this next movie to lighten the tone and to "de-grimify" their franchise, which I fully support. It's just going to be difficult to navigate a film which is going to focus very much on Harley and the Joker and their complicated relationship. Based on the trailers, everything I've read about the story being depicted and some leaked footage that has made its way onto the interwebs, it appears that Joker is very much going to be portrayed as Harley's abuser but I am concerned about how that will be written. It can be done very well (as I think the Netflix original Jessica Jones proved in spades) but it'll be a very fine line and if they miss the mark, everything will fall apart.

Though at the same time.... the movie has to try to find a way to be fun.

I'm very interested to see if the director, David Ayer, is able to pull it off. I'm a big fan of Street Kings and End of Watch and both featured very complex characters but these were also very dark movies.

Anyway, I'm counting down the days until I finally get to meet the world's first on-screen Harley Quinn (96 days, y'all) and I'm hoping they honor her the way that they should. We're finally entering an era of bad ass female characters on the big (and small) screen and I just want these women to thrive - Harley, Jessica Jones, Wonder Woman (!!!), Captain Marvel, and even this new Mockingbird "Most Wanted" series (a spin off based on the only character on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. I actively enjoy). I can only hope this trend continues. Movies like Mad Max: Fury Road and Star Wars: The Force Awakens and their rampant popularity and success certainly have helped the cause. The last thing I want to see happen is a regression or more of the same old patriarchal shit.

Here's hoping for the best in this new Nerd Girl Golden Age.

Musings: When Songs Change Us

So recently I had the honor of listening to Bob Boilen of NPR’s All Songs Considered speak at his book launch (and by the way, if you haven’t picked it up yet, the book is called Your Song Changed My Life and it’s fantastic). During the event, he touched on what song changed him and what songs were picked by other artists he interviewed for his book and why. It made me think about myself and
what song has impacted me on that level, if any. I thought about it for a long time. Music is very important in my life and I have a very eclectic collection so picking just one song seemed daunting. I’ve spent days asking my friends what songs they would pick and I have gotten an array of answers – “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead (which was a contender for me as well); “Suedehead” by Morrissey; “Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine; and even “Pony” by Ginuwine (ahem, hello sexual awakenings). But for me, I kept coming up empty. Would I choose something by Radiohead? Jeff Buckley? The Beatles? Oasis? Otis Redding? Lauryn Hill? I had no idea how to even go about deciding how to pick this one song! So many songs have meant so many different things to me. And then I had to stop thinking so hard and really just sit back and track back my musical history to a moment in time and suddenly it was very clear to me.

I was 16 years old and I was living in Lakeridge, VA – a bitter transplant from San Diego. I grew up listening to and loving my parents’ music – I didn’t rebel against it at all, I embraced it. Donna Summers? Yes! Smokey Robinson? Aye! The Mamas and the Papas? You betcha! I loved it all – so much so that by the time I reached my teens, I felt like an out-of-place weirdo. Like, why didn’t other people my age love this music as much as I loved it?

OK, let me take a step back actually. I don’t want to make it seem like I was or am above Top 40s. Definitely not the case! I owned that first Spice Girls album (and still listen to it to this day). My very first live “concert” was when I was in preschool and I saw Tiffany at the mall. The first tape I ever bought was Different Light by the Bangles (which, by the way, we will revisit by the end of this blog post). If I hear “Everybody” by the Backstreet Boys, I will dance my ass off. Ace of Base – they were my spirit animals. I liked all the music that my fellow 90s kids liked…. but for the most part, it was all very superficial (as a lot of that music can be) and I never felt an emotional connection to most of it. That was reserved for the real music – my parent’s music.

At the not-so-tender age of 16, I believed that no one was really making the kind of music that could crawl into your gut and pull at your insides. I mean my older brother introduced me to the Kinks, Violent Femmes, Talking Heads, Queen, The Smiths, Joy Division…. but that still felt like HIS music – like I was just glomming onto, yet again, a better greater era that had come to an end. And hey, nothing wrong with that! I’d accepted this lot in life and I was fine with it. The music industry had given up and I would just have to be okay with the Third Eye Blinds and Jennifer Lopez’s of the world.

But then a weird and magical thing happened.

I was with a good friend of mine (one whom I have written about before and was probably the most important friendship of my life) and his birthday was coming up. His family was forcing him to celebrate it and he was dreading it because he hated his parents and they were going on a road trip to FLORIDA. Knowing how upset he was about the impending doom, I took him out to dinner – some bougie place by the Torpedo Factory in Old Town Alexandria. We had steak and spiked our Shirley Temples. It was March and still pretty chilly out so he wrapped his coat around me while we walked around the pier. We talked about the books we were reading and how we were going to live in NYC together one day and start a band. He teased me about my love of the Bangles (who, at that time, was my absolute FAVORITE BAND IN THE WHOLE WORLD) and I defended it. I serenaded him, terribly off key, with the Bangles’ “Angels Don’t Fall in Love” and he groaned and shoved me and told me he loved me even though my taste in music was total shit. And I teased him for being a pretentious prat because all he listened to was The Smiths and The Cure – and while I also loved those bands, I was more open to more kinds of music out there and he was not (or so I believed).

We got into my mom’s car (I was sober, promise) and waited for it to warm up. I flipped through my wallet of CDs and started to put that Bangles album into the player and my friend begged me not to make him listen to it again – not on his birthday. I almost reminded him that this wasn’t his car and it wasn’t ACTUALLY his birthday – it was in a week – but I let it go. I told him we could listen to whatever he wanted to listen to. He pulled this CD out of his messenger bag and the cover was this gorgeous redheaded woman lying on a dirty floor – she had on this leather jacket and her eyes were open but I wasn’t sure if she was alive or not. The band name was Neko Case & Her Boyfriends and the album was Furnace Room Lullaby. I’d heard some of it before that point – but not really. More like it would be playing in my friend’s room when I’d show up to hang out…. and I wo
uld immediately make him change it because one type of music that I refused to give a chance was country. Sure, I mean there’s like Johnny Cash and Emmylou Harris but they were exceptions! But today’s country music? Nope. I did not do twang. I’d hear a couple notes from that Neko Case album and I’d make him turn it off straight away.

But this was his “birthday” and he knew that this was the moment he was going to get me to shut the fuck up and listen. Honestly, I don’t actually even think he was trying to get me to care about this album as much as he just wanted to listen to it because he loved it and this time I was finally going to be quiet and not whine over Neko Case’s singing.

I carefully pulled out of the parking space as he hit play. I remember sort of listening but not really during that first track. As I drove out of Old Town and my friend lit up a cigarette next to me and rolled down the window, I started to settle into the music more. By the third track, I was in. I was all in. The song “Porchlight” has long been one of my favorite Neko Case songs but really it was “Mood to Burn Bridges” that really struck me:

So if you want moral advice 
I suggest you just tuck it all away
'Cause my mood to burn bridges
Parallels my mood to dig ditches
Don't cross me on neither a day, baby

My mind was exploding. It was just like, “Oh shit what is this?!” The lyrics were a punch in the stomach. But more importantly the musicality of it! The album as a whole was firmly placed in the realm of country but wasn’t married to whatever pop hell modern country had supposedly devolved into. It was so expansive – one moment ethereal and the next ass-kicking. And “Mood to Burn Bridges” toed this weird line between playful and vengeful that just…. got it. I don’t know how else to say that. And what I found amazing is while this was definitely an “alternative” country album, there were so many more things happening – it was a little bit rock n roll and a little bit bluesy. And it was all weaved together in this perfect partnership of badass harmony in a way that I had never been exposed to before. It was honestly the very first time that I realized that a) there were artists today still making fucking incredible music and b) genre bending in music is, you know, a thing and it’s amazing.

After that, I started to break out of the “musical box” I had created for myself and explored what else was out there. Neko Case was my entrance into a whole new world. And that first time listening to “Mood to Burn Bridges” was the moment I saw the door to that world open up. And while Neko Case herself is firmly a Gen-Xer (and had been in the music industry already for quite some time), this was definitely MY era of music, finally. Someone who was out there NOW making music that was speaking to me. And through Neko Case, I discovered artists like the New Pornographers, AC Newman, Pretty Girls Make Graves, Evan Kane, Ryan Adams, Linda McRae, Wilco and so many others. From that moment on, my devotion to music can almost be described as religious.

I still keep a special place tucked away in my heart for bands like The Bangles and Ace of Base, but I had finally discovered my own world of emotionally intricate music that wasn’t through someone else’s generation and it felt pretty good. (Though, that being said, one of the things that I love about Neko Case’s music is how timeless it really is.) And in the end, it shaped who I am now as an appreciator of the musical arts – and really, also opened up emotional flood gates I didn’t even know I had. And what more can you even ask for?

So thank you, Neko Case – thank you for giving me a musical world that feels like mine. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be lost in a sea of bubblegum pop and booty-popping remixes, wishing desperately to wake up in a generation of music that understood me in any way. Keep on keeping on, you badass punk rock Patsy Cline.