The Sonder Bombs – Clothbound | Album Review

How many friendships have ended because of COVID-19? I don’t have enough fingers to count the number of people I love who have shown a completely different side of themselves over the past year. We’ve watched people refuse to wear masks and stay home by the thousands, all because it infringes upon their “personal rights.” High-risk folks should just expect to die, right? We’ve watched people protest the closure of Disneyland but remain completely silent in the face of widespread racial injustice. This entitled community flocks to brunch in enclosed igloos but refuses to assist their unhoused neighbors on the streets. We’ve watched people do all of this and more, all because the alternative is slightly more inconvenient for them. I’ve discovered these selfish, narcissistic people not just in the world around me as some reckless “other,” but that they exist in my friend groups, role models, and even my family. As deadly and horrific as this pandemic is, the one bright side is that it has helped me filter these toxic people out of my life.

Even with the worst in plain view, the pandemic has also made me realize what’s important to me, and it’s not going out to bars and partying, but building deep connections with the people I hold closest to my heart. It’s easy to mistake your friend group as kind-hearted, but that’s not always the case. I still miss these people and think of them often, but then I realize I’m missing only fractured memories. Positive memories of late-night drives across state lines, screaming along to emo songs, and smoking in 7/11 parking lots get buried by feelings of anger and hatred towards people I thought I’d always be able to fall back on. I cried more often than not in 2020 but learned that it’s okay to cry--even cool. But puns inside, I realized that being sensitive and vulnerable isn’t a weakness, but actually a strength. Clothbound, the sophomore album by The Sonder Bombs, came at a time when I was struggling with feelings of inadequacy, tenderness, anger, and loneliness. This record carefully and precisely fleshes out each of these emotions in loving detail. 

With emotions and sensitivity on full display, The Sonder Bombs have crafted a masterpiece of a comfort album. But it wouldn’t be a Sonder Bombs release without some absolute bangers. Lead single “What are Friends For?” established the group’s mission statement early on. Clothbound isn’t a record about external relationships beginning or ending; it’s about Willow’s internal relationship with their sensitivity and self. It is watching the growth in real-time through Willow’s encapsulation of the full range of human emotion and gender expression. When I listen to this album, I find a home in Willow’s portrayal of sensitivity. I consider myself an overly sensitive person, and I found peace and solace in the fact that someone else shares these emotions that can sometimes feel larger than life. Not only that, but they are able to grapple with these feelings and put them into songs that help me feel less isolated in this time of turmoil.

“Crying is Cool,” the second single released off the album, is the quarantine comfort song. “Netflix and a box of wine”? Yeah, that happens quite often. Am I gonna cry to whichever movie I put on? Probably. Between the nurturing lyrical content and summery flower-adorned music video, this song set the upbeat poppy tone for Clothbound with a track that’s not afraid to talk about feelings. Even the title conveys an evocative message. Whether it’s “Cr-crying is cool” or “F-feeling is fine,” the stuttered sentiments that close out each verse makes it feel like Willow is trying to convince themselves of these things in real-time. We hear them hesitating and nervous but also trying to build themselves up, growing into the affirmations as the song ends. It is the perfect tune to keep us holding on for spring weather and better times. 

Of course, with emotionally charged lyrics comes banging riffs. The hypnotizing dance party that is “Vegas BABY!!!” is brilliantly carried by Kevin Cappy and Jimmy Wilkens’ staple guitar and bass lines. The Sonder Bombs always deliver with the most catchy riffs and incredible articulation of pure emotion into each note played. The chorus’s back and forth vocals make for a dance party as vibrant and sophisticated as the lights of the Vegas Strip. We even get a taste of synth that shines and shimmers to a prismatic effect. This album is fuller than any other Sonder Bombs release thanks to support by Joe Reinhart, who recorded, mixed, and produced Clothbound. This is the most profound Sonder Bombs release yet, and the album is not only heartfelt but enchanting and magical thanks to songs like “The One About You.” The band has completely opened themselves to create an album that is relatable, masterly put together, and chock-full of passion. 

A departure from the sharp femininity and perfectly placed rage of Modern Female Rockstar, Willow fully opens their heart on Clothbound, realizing the feelings that lie beneath anger are equally as important. Both “Swing on Sight” and “k.” provide us an outlet for rage, complete with riffs, breakdowns, and even screams that welcome you to join in on the vent session. But, without neglecting those feelings of anger, the band has found that feeling a full range of emotions helps make peace with those angry thoughts. In Clothbound, each emotion holds significance. It’s growth in every regard. 

When I saw The Sonder Bombs in 2019, I identified with Willow in many ways, but mostly with my place as a woman in the scene. Within the time since, Willow has opened up to identifying with all pronouns. This album shows the depth of emotions that comes with finding your non-comforming place in the world and especially the music scene. Similarly, during that same time, I have transitioned into being nonbinary. This album is a whole new level of reassurance for a femme-presenting person in the DIY scene. To every sensitive nonbinary, this one is for your tender heart. 

Willow’s pure gentleness, combined with the elegance of a soft rainstorm in “Scattered,” creates a somber lullaby. Jer Berkin’s drums are what guides us on this soft-spoken track. With lyrics such as “seaside ashes scattered in someone else’s backyard,” a picture is painted of some broken midwest kids attempting to find closure in the complex process that is grief. This song takes me back to the sorrow embedded in Willow’s performance of “Pindrop” at the House of Independents on the 2019 Just Friends tour. As a then-unreleased song, I spent weeks trying to track down a recording and the lyrics. Every part of that performance stuck with me as I was currently picking up the pieces from the death of a loved one. The Sonder Bombs comforted me then, and they comfort me now with Clothbound.

There is delicacy and strength in being soft-hearted. This album is an all-consuming thesis on emotions, one in which we listen to Willow process and work through their feelings in real-time. Over the course of the album’s 31 minutes, we witness the band wrestle with emotions of every size, type, and capacity. By the time we get to the last song, “Play it by Fear,” we are dealing with Willow’s self-doubt in which they examine their rage that simmered over on the previous track. The group had just let out a whirlwind of anger on “k.” Despite the fact that Willow had spent the entire release trying to convince both themselves and the listener that these feelings are valid, they find themselves turning inward, entering a period of reflection, and beating themselves up. The lyric “wish I was free, not locked in a cage” conveys that although Willow spent the last nine songs with every emotion on full display, they still resort to locking themselves away for feeling. Full of regret and uncertainty, Willow realizes that the burden of support cannot be a solitary act. Upon the final verse of the album, Willow finds themselves reflecting on their place in the world and still feeling lost. The final lines echoing the sentiment, “I’m too big of a narcissist,” showing the need they are still left with: love and admiration from others.

Clothbound is an album about picking up the fallout of a heart cracked wide open. Yet in all the jumble of emotions, The Sonder Bombs manage to make peace with their enemies. Whether these enemies are internal or external, serenity is found through forging self-love and acceptance. In the rush of emotions that is life, recognizing your feelings is an essential part of growth and a vital part of your relationships. Clothbound stands as a monument to feeling. It’s a reassurance that emotions are okay to feel in full-form. It’s a reminder to never back down from those feelings, because that’s who you are at your core.

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Ashley Bedore is a disabled, queer music lover living in Denver, CO. They can usually be found with a record spinning, head buried in communist theory, with cats on either side. As a sociology major with a never-ending love for the DIY scene, Ashley enjoys discussing accessibility and collective care in the scene to foster spaces where every single body belongs. Follow them on Twitter at @emomarxist.

Snacking – Blacked Out On A Train | Single Review

Not gonna lie, Florida kinda scares me. It’s not just the golf-playing retirees or the alligators or the need to be beach-bod-ready at all times… It’s that some odd combination of these elements results in an environment that’s virtually inhospitable to my Pacific Northwestern spirit. 

Despite my harsh feelings on Florida, this region has (from my outsider’s perspective) one of the best DIY scenes in the country outside of the Midwest. Florida alone has Pool Kids, Dikembe, Worst Party Ever, Virginity, Skatune Network/JER, Woolbright, Dannythestreet, Gouge Away, Camp Trash, and more. On the other side of the border, you bands like Guitar Fight spouting up in Georgia. Just across the other border, you have groups like Insignificant Other in Alabama. My point is that, despite the sweltering conditions, there’s something in the air down in the southeast that just seems to breed great bands. While I’m not one to bet on artists' popularity, I’m calling it now; Snacking will soon become another one of this region’s success stories. 

“Blacked Out On A Train,” the group’s newest track and lead single off their upcoming EP Painted Gold, is a poppy emo-flavored triumph that sets the table for the band’s artistic metamorphosis. While the Snacking’s 2018 EP Not Here acted as the group’s formal unveiling to the world, it was a collection of songs heavily indebted to the sounds of midwest emo and Florida forebearers like You Blew It! Meanwhile, “Blacked Out On A Train” elevates the group’s sound in nearly every conceivable way. From instrumentation and production to lyricism and inspiration, this song is the sound of a band evolving before our eyes.

Opening with what sounds like a shimmering arcade game ‘Continue’ sound effect, “Blacked Out On A Train” blends together uplifting power chords, snappy drumming, and even-keeled basslines for a cleanly-produced indie rock sound with just an underlying hint of midwest-flavor. On top of this compelling instrumental bed, lead singer Ryan Dormois delivers melodic yet melancholic lyricism that evokes equal parts Pedro The Lion and Into It. Over It. 

These elements all swirl together for a song that depicts the conflicting aspects of life on the road. The strange mix of freedom and excitement that is counterbalanced by hesitation and unfamiliarity. As towns and faces pass by, time continues to progress. Each passing minute brings exciting new views and experiences but also adds distance between you and the people you hold most dear. As you willingly drive away from all familiar creature comforts, alcohol becomes a companion, and the phrase “live a little” morphs from an affirmation into a challenge. These lyrical sentiments pave the way for a searing guitar solo that closes out the track and ushers in the remainder of the EP—merely an appetizer (or snack, I suppose) for the entree that’s yet to come. 

“Blacked Out On A Train” is available now on all streaming services, and Painted Gold is out on February 12th via Chilwavve Records.

Breathing New Life Into Shoegaze, An Interview with Clearbody

Even though it came out in December, Clearbody’s One More Day was easily one of 2020’s strongest debuts. Formerly known as Dollhands, the Charlotte, North Carolina trio fuse the speed and ferocity of punk with the lush textures of shoegaze to create an immensely satisfying album. Clearbody find themselves in the increasingly fertile sect of shoegaze that is heavily indebted to bands such as Hum and Deftones. Where bands like Narrow Head decide to infuse their blend of heavy shoegaze with the grungy sound of nineties alt-rock, Clearbody’s punk and emo leanings help to set them apart from the pack as they have more in common with Blink-182 than Alice In Chains.

One More Day is a shock to the system; its eight songs are delivered with both speed and efficiency in just twenty-five minutes. “Scratch The Color” opens the album at a sprint’s pace as guitar, bass, and drums charge forward in unison while Eric Smeal sings of the absence of friendship. The band displays its pop sensibilities on “Blossom”  and “Too Far Gone,” which feature infectious guitar leads backed by upbeat rhythms. 

If this is starting to sound like Clearbody is a run of the mill pop-punk band, rest assured, this band contains multitudes thanks to their bonafide shoegaze aesthetic. The title track opens with heavily reverbed guitar chords, steady distorted bass, and crashing cymbals as gloomy vocals ponder the pain of not being with their beloved. “Suspension” closes the album with a climax that displays how well the band members play off of each other as rhythm section Martin Hacker-Mullen and Seth Wesner provide grit and heft for Eric Smeal’s screeching guitar solo.

What makes One More Day so exciting and interesting is that no song is just one thing despite the short running times. The band is able to include a diverse range of their influences in each track without creating a muddy mess. Pop minded songs such as “Scratch The Color” and “Blossom” each close out with passages of heavy distortion that play into the dreamy side of shoegaze, whereas “One More Day” alternates between moments of slow haze and blistering aggression as a means of servicing the pain and confusion depicted in the lyrics.

With One More Day, Clearbody has delivered a debut that could easily be from a band that has found its sound three or four albums into its career. Who knows where they will go from here, but wherever it is, I will follow. 

Recently, I had the pleasure to sit down with Eric Smeal, Clearbody’s guitarist and lead vocalist to discuss the band’s past, present, future, and you guessed it, Tom Petty.

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The three of you were originally in a band known as Dollhands. Is Clearbody just a name change, or do you view it as a new band removed from your old work?
Kind of both, honestly. Technically the original band was called Muffled, I started that project by myself in 2014 when I was a junior in high school, it was just garage rock kinda stuff inspired by bands like the Pixies and Ty Segall. We switched it to Dollhands once we started playing local shows because the word muffled is kind of an onomatopoeia; every time I’d say the name to someone, they’d be like, “wait what? I didn’t catch that.” We came up with Dollhands off of word association, and I never really felt like it was a good fit for us, it sounded like a horrorcore band name or something. When Seth and Marty joined in 2018, it felt like a totally new band, we just played some of the same songs.

Your work as Dollhands skews more toward emo and pop-punk. I’m curious what led to the inclusion of aspects of shoegaze. Was this a conscious shift in sound or something that happened naturally?
It happened naturally, at least that’s how I think it happened. Dollhands had a scrapped EP (which I put out earlier in 2020 under the name Collection) that was more so a garage rock record than anything else, I’ve always said that we’re one thing when we’ve been called something else the whole time. I honestly think the shoegaze shit started with the song “Showbiz” off of that EP, I had no idea what the fuck I was doing at the time, but I listened to that song recently and was like, “damn, this is kind of a shoegaze song.” I like to think that we’re a “shoegaze” band, but people can call us whatever they want. When we were writing & recording One More Day, I didn’t realize how much it sounds like a classic emo record, but now I totally see why people say we’re an emo band. I really didn’t get the Sunny Day Real Estate comparisons at first, I just thought they were sick comparisons, but I like that people think of us as a melting pot band.

A version of “Quarterback” appears on a Dollhands/Stress Fractures split EP. Are the other songs on the album B.C. (Before Clearbody), or were they written specifically for One More Day?
So technically, 5 out of the 8 songs are “Dollhands” songs; “Blossom,” “One More Day,” and “In Latency” were all written while we were recording. Seth came to practice one day in April with the Blossom riff, and it just kinda wrote itself. We tracked that song first, and initially it was just going to be a single, but then we were like fuck it, let’s record the rest of these songs, which were “Scratch,” “Ultraclarity,” “Too Far Gone,” and “Suspension.” At the end of 2019, we tracked an EP, which was all of those songs minus “Suspension.” We had another song on it called “Dream Eater,” which was an incredibly cursed song for us to play live; we played it like 8 times since 2018, and every time something would go wrong, or we’d fuck it up, one time we straight up just stopped playing it and moved on hahahaha. We all felt down on our performances during the EP recording session and decided to do it ourselves. Alex Martin convinced us to add “Quarterback” to the record, and we were already working on One More Day, so we added that one too. “In Latency” just kinda came to me one night after tracking, and it felt like a good transition from “Too Far Gone” to “Suspension.” I’ve always loved artists like Grouper and Alex G, so it’s me just trying to channel that energy.  

One of the things that impresses me most about the album is how you blend punk’s speed and aggression with the spacey and dreamy aspects of shoegaze without sounding awkward or muddied. Can you speak to how you find this balance? 
We just kinda do our thing, it’s always been like that. We try to not put so much pressure into stuff like that when we’re writing, we just know where the parts should be. I’ve always been the “play as fast as possible” type of musician, which can be a little challenging when shoegaze music is usually slow and droney. When we were tracking, I was hella into bands like Boris or Yuragi, Japanese shoegaze music is fuckin sick, and they constantly blend different styles together. I showed Marty this band called “………” the other day (yes, their name is just 9 periods), and they’re straight up a pop-punk shoegaze band, its so fucking sick hahahahaha.

The field of “heavy shoegaze” acts has become increasingly fertile over the past few years, with bands like Cloakroom, Greet Death, Narrow Head, and Nothing all approaching the sound from different angles. Do you see yourself as a part of this movement? If so, do you draw inspiration from any of these bands (mentioned or otherwise)?
I think we’re apart of that movement, yeah. We’ve been lucky enough to play with both Narrow Head and Nothing, along with some other cool bands like Fake Eyes & Soul Blind too. Everyone has their own style to the genre, which is really sick. I think that I draw a ton of influence from both Greet Death and Cloakroom, respectively. I just want Clearbody to be heavy as shit, but also have huge and beautiful moments too. Spirit of the Beehive is the best example of something like that, I think, they can be so aggressive, but they also have these expansive, beautiful moments too. Dynamics in shoegaze are everything to me, they can really make or break a band. 

Will you describe your writing process? Do you all write together? Are ideas fleshed out through jamming or some other method?
Most of the time, one of us will just bring a riff to practice, and we’ll try to flesh it out as much as we can. I wrote most of the songs on One More Day by myself first, then I brought them to practice. I write all of the lyrics too.

Your lyrics speak on themes of failed friendship, the passing of time, and people either being lost in life or moved on from completely. Where do you draw your inspiration for lyrics?
Personal experiences, I guess, sometimes it can be hard to tell. My whole life, I’ve always just let the words come out; I’ve never tried to write about only one thing, so all of the songs on One More Day are about a bunch of different things. The title track is mostly about my partner Cass and how they live 12 hours away from me, but it’s also about seeing how much you’ve grown personally. That’s another thing that kind of “happened by accident,” all the songs are about growth. Yeah, sure, you can cover a lot of ground with just vague shit like that, but I think that I processed stuff on this record, shit I needed to move on from. We live in dark times, so I’m glad that the album has connected with people in that way.

Your work as Dollhands features covers from myriad different artists, but the one that sticks out to me as the most interesting/peculiar is your cover of Tom Petty’s “Mary Jane’s Last Dance.” I find it to be a very successful cover and I am curious what your relationship to his music is. I have noticed that, like Petty, your songs are able to get to the chorus/refrain in four lines or less.
That cover was actually apart of a cover comp I worked on! My dad plays harmonica on it hahahaha, but yeah, I’ve always loved Tom Petty, and when he passed away, we started working on that comp, it was way before all the Acrobat Unstable stuff. I’ve never really thought about it like that; I was raised on Tom Petty and other bands like Aerosmith and REO Speedwagon, then when I was in middle school, I found out about Nirvana and blink-182. Blink was obviously the big one; I bought a bass when I was in high school and learned all their records.

You recently played a fantastic live stream for Audiotree. How did it feel to play your music in a live setting with shows being prohibited for the foreseeable future? 
It was honestly crazy, we added something new to every song in that set, and I’m stoked with how it came out. Hopefully, we’ll be able to play live in the near future whenever it’s safe, I really miss it.

You mentioned on Twitter that you already have three songs for your second LP. Can you discuss the direction you are going with it and when you think it might be out?
It’ll probably be out in 2022. The songs really aren’t much just yet; Marty and Seth both wrote a song together, which is sick. I wrote a cowboy ass riff for it that I hated at first, but now I love it. I already have a concept for lyrics and imagery that I wanna run with, we just haven’t really had a chance to sit down and talk about that stuff yet. We’re just trying to pump these songs out cause One More Day took me 4~ years to write; the oldest song on it is “Suspension,” which I wrote back in the Muffled days (full circle interview moment) but this one we’ll hopefully be done writing sometime in 2021.

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Connor lives in San Francisco with his partner and their cat, Toni. Connor has an MFA in creative writing and is working toward becoming a community college professor. When he isn’t listening to music or writing about killer riffs, Connor is obsessing over coffee and sandwiches.

Follow him on Twitter or Instagram.

Tiberius - Lull | Album Review

Love and heartbreak have to be two of the most well-trodden territories in songwriting. I suppose they’re ever-fruitful creative ground since everyone’s relationships are different and all fluctuate in unique ways. Whether it’s friendship, a romantic relationship, or something else, that combination of two people coming together and forming something special between them means that love and heartbreak are infinitely interpretable topics. No two relationships are alike, and exploring those novel combinations of people has led to some of the best songs in the world. It’s also led to some of the most trite and soulless garbage imaginable. Turn on the radio or walk into a grocery store anywhere in America and odds are, within a few minutes, you’ll hear a song about a relationship either beginning or ending. That duality of love and heartbreak is all well and good, after all, people are still connecting to it and finding new ways to write about it after hundreds of years, but that doesn’t stop it from being commonplace. 

These days, I’m much more interested in the grey areas of life… The spaces between the defined path and the boundless area ahead. Those “commonplace” concepts of falling in and out of love are fine, but they’re extremes. We spend more of our lives existing in the ground between those two states. 

As an artist, what do you have to say about an unremarkable Wednesday? How do you fill the space when your friends don’t call and your family is far away? What do you do when it’s interminably slow at work and you need time to fill the void? This is the sort of grey area we’ve been living in since March of 2020, so maybe that’s what appeals to me so much about artists who stray away from the binary of “love” and “heartbreak.” More often than not, life isn’t “good and bad,” it’s mute and indescribable. It’s listless and empty. It’s either a hectic scramble or adrift emotionality. What you have to say about that is what tests your mettle as an artist, not finding a new way to say ‘I am sad about girls.’

While your mileage may vary, I think the first time that many of us experience this grey area of life in full is immediately after college. If everything goes according to plan, after graduation you’ll find yourself in your early 20s, degree in-hand, and debt piled up. You followed the path that society has set out for you; you went to school, did your homework, found your “calling,” now what? Most students enter the world lost and confused with a resume and a handful of intern credits that they expected to help them land them a job that they may not even want. Then they spend months (or years) finding their way into that job, all for the express purpose of paying off that debt they attained just trying to get here—what a great system. 

Lull, the sophomore album from Tiberius, delves into this grey area in full over the course of a sprawling 48 minutes. Helmed by multi-instrumentalist Brendan Wright, he bills the release as an exploration of “self-hatred vs. self-love, the complexities of transitioning between youth and aging, and the power of the pen and expression.” 

Walking a fine line between midwest emo and lush indie rock, the collection of songs on Lull prattle on in the most charming and abstract way. Sometimes dipping into near-rapped spoken word excursions and exploratory solos, the music is slowly but surely making its way forward. This record is the musical equivalent of sleeping over at someone’s house and navigating your way to the bathroom in the dark; you move forward, one unsure step after another, all the while your hands gently scan the empty middle ground in search of any obstacles that might impede your journey. Despite the dread that comes with navigating this unfamiliar territory, the sense of satisfaction you feel when you accomplish that journey and make it back to the warm comfort of the bed makes it all worth it. The excursion was necessary, even if you didn’t want to embark on it.

Perhaps the best indicator of Lull’s message comes in its name… Lull. It’s a fitting word to describe that period of your life where the predetermined path ends and the world lies before you. What direction do you go now? How fast should you be moving? Are you even going the right way? Lull captures the lost essence one feels as the gust of energy, creativity, and forward momentum suddenly gives way to a distinct type of nothingness.

Opening track “The First of Many Lasts” sets the tone for the release with a swirl of strings, acoustic guitar, and xylophone that all congeal together to establish a melody that will present itself throughout the record. After this calming 50-second introduction, “MPHL” brings this swirling melody to a complete halt, acting as an instrumental stop sign that commands attention and draws focus on Wright’s vocals. After an opening salvo of downtrodden lyrics, the cymbal taps grow louder, eventually culminating into a fully-fledged drum build. As the song begins to swell and pick up intensity, the remainder of the instruments join in, forming a swaying instrumental that acts as an optimistic counterpoint to the cynical lyricism. These first two tracks serve as a detailed and multi-layered introduction to the complicated and emotional world of Lull. 

From there, lead single “Pale Ale” is a catchy, cathartic anthem that doubles as one of the record’s most pointed and self-contained tracks. This song walks the line between midwest emo and classic indie rock in the vein of Broken Social Scene. There are drums, bass, multiple guitars, and even a soaring sax solo that manages to fit into the song seamlessly. Even though some tracks feature additional band members, I can’t help but marvel at the fact that something this dense and layered came from one mind. While Lull was created and recorded primarily by Wright alone, “Pale Ale” acts as a hyper-collaborative high point that he is able to revisit thematically later in the album. 

From here, the band explores the aforementioned topics of relationships, aging, creativity, and self-expression through a series of constantly-shifting tracks. The album’s title track pairs gorgeous female vocals over a buoyant guitar line that drives the song forward. “Urn” is a dark and groovy cut with an instrumental reminiscent of early Interpol or even The Cure. “Furrow” pairs an electronic instrumental bed with a wispy guitar and gentle piano for a funky and laid-back excursion. 

Despite the fact that all of these songs feel unique and stylistically different, they all fit into the larger theme of the album thanks to Wright’s vocals and overarching artistic vision. No matter what stylistic indulgences or genre-based fluctuations the album goes through, Lull always centers back to the same concepts of progress and feeling like you’re not quite where you’re meant to be.

Are you actually growing or merely sustaining? Did you follow the instructions, or were you even meant to in the first place? As damaging as a lull can be in your life, the beauty is that it can also act as a period of reflection. Stalling out may feel bad because you’ve lost momentum, but it can also be a much-needed pause that allows us to think, find that missing sense of direction, and pull ourselves out. It’s all about perspective; a lull is only as negative as you allow it to be. On the other side of every lull, there is explosive progress, affirming relationships, and personal development. A lull might feel bad while you’re in it, but sometimes the only way out is through. 

Some Final Thoughts on 2020

I write this at the end of an indescribable year. In about a decade or so, I’ll probably have the perspective and the vocabulary to properly articulate the effects that this year had on me and our collective psyche, but for now, I can’t see the forest for the trees. Aside from that, I think those types of conclusions will take a long time to unravel, and the effects haven’t even been fully-experienced yet. 

I write this at the end of a year of panic, death, and worldwide misery. Things happened this year that were universal and affected us all. Things happened this year that touched all of our lives. Things happened this year that have changed the course of history. Whether you were rich or poor, you were impacted by 2020. Whether you lived down the hall from me or across the world, you were impacted by the events of this year. Whether you are adolescent or elderly, your life was touched by the events of the last 365 days. No matter who you were, where you live, or what you do, you will look back on this year and never. be able. to forget. 

If it weren’t for the love of my partner, the support of my family, or the help of my friends, I would not have made it through this year. A secondary yet even more consistent form of support throughout this year was music. After all, I run this blog on top of a seasonal Sufjan Christmas music blog. I have music playing from virtually the moment I wake up to the minute I fall asleep. I am insane. But my point is that music has helped me make it through the year. Music has helped me escape reality, amplify love, and affirm my existence. 

Aside from music, which is obviously a vastly important part of my day to day life, my other escape is podcasts. I’m not a big “podcast guy,” I used to be (back when I had the time in high school and college), but now I just listen to one podcast: Comedy Bang Bang. This show’s abject absurdity proves to be the farthest escape from reality I can possibly achieve through the medium, and that is what I go to podcasts for; to distract my mind entirely from the world around me. No podcast does that better than Comedy Bang Bang, where Scott Aukerman’s deadpan interviews and pop culture dad jokes bounce off characters like a cowboy poet Laureate, a put-upon carpet saleswoman, a perilously thin intern, and Santa Claus himself. It’s the furthest thing from reality, and that has never been more of a blessing than this year. 

As much as I love it, I was also a year or two behind on Comedy Bang Bang (as I said, I don’t have a ton of time). Despite how far behind I was, Comedy Bang Bang has proved to be a much-needed escape this year. As I listened nervously throughout 2020, I realized I was getting closer, week by week, to the outbreak of the Coronavirus. Being a year behind meant I had a few dozen hours of comforting pre-Corona comfort at my disposal. Yet the paradox was each time I ventured to this well of distraction, I was also using up a finite supply of entertainment before the sharp pain of reality injected itself into my sacred space.

Sure enough, I made it to an episode in March, and the reality of the podcast was broken. Even the shroud of improv couldn’t keep out the harsh, deadly reality of the world outside. The pandemic struck, and suddenly, without warning, my favorite podcast was in March of 2020, just like everyone else. Suddenly the members of my one artificial safe space were all trying their best to adapt to this new life of home recordings and deadly viruses. It felt, in a word, violating. Not necessarily the show’s fault, but it felt weird to see reality so wholly inflict itself upon my mental playspace. 

It became symbolic, a microcosm of the year that I got to re-experience months after the fact while catching up on the podcast this fall. I got to hear them joke about Tiger King for the first time. I got to listen to all sorts of (now trite) Zoom jokes. I got to experience both the host and guests struggle with the change a deadly pandemic brings in real-time. I got to hear insight from these people I’d been listening to for years as I watched them face their own mortality and possible death as we all did at some point in the early weeks of quarantine. Not only that, I got to see them struggle with all the same things we collectively did back in March and April. 

Some of those early episodes were… rough. There were technological issues galore, unfunny moments, and awkward interruptions of every size. It made me realize how much this year was unshakably universal.

Then the end of the year rolled around. The cold weather swept in, the snow started falling, and my Christmas spirit started to emerge. As my hectic year at work wrapped up, I decided to skip ahead in the CBB timeline to the annual Christmas episode. Listening to this episode and playing video games has become a time-honored tradition that I look forward to every holiday break. I fired my console up, threw the episode on, and, much to my surprise… it sounded like a classic episode of Comedy Bang Bang. The audio quality had gotten better, and the guests weren’t wrestling with Zoom anymore. It sounded like the episode could have been recorded in a studio last year. It sounded like good ol’ CBB.

To skip from these episodes in April that took me back to such a dark place in the quarantine timeline to the present day where they’ve ironed out nearly every conceivable aspect of remote recording was affirming. Aside from meaning I had good episodes to look forward to, it also meant that this podcast, like the rest of us, was able to adjust over time. It meant there was hope. I only had that perspective because I made such a drastic jump forward in the podcast’s timeline, but now looking back on my own year, I realize how much I’ve adapted to change as well. I look back at where I was back in March and where I am now. I’m a little bit heavier, but I also feel like I’ve adjusted to this frightening time quite nicely. I feel fulfilled at work, I feel fulfilled creatively, and I feel fulfilled in my relationships. I am making it work. And sometimes, just “making it work” is the best you can do.

I’m not going to pretend we are in a better spot right now. I’m not going to pretend Joe Biden’s win is a good thing… but it was at least the better thing. I’m not going to expect the COVID vaccine to solve every problem we’re currently facing… but that’s at least better than another nine months of this. I’m not going to pretend that all of our issues are solved because a few good things happened at the end of the year… but that’s better than how things have been going for a long time. 

The word is still deeply fucked, and we are still deeply fucked with it if we don’t do something. People need your help. Your friends, neighbors, brothers, and sisters need your help. If you have the ability, the time, and the resources, it’s time to do something. We need to use what little momentum we have to change things for the better. Our current path is unsustainable, and, if nothing else, 2020 has made that abundantly clear.

I’m not going to pretend that we’re in a better place than we were one year ago, but we have to imagine that ideal world and work towards it actively. Right now, it feels like things might be changing for the better, so let’s use our voices and make sure of it. 

Thanks for reading along this year. I’ll see you all in 2021.