Author: beekmank

A few days ago, I started reading a book that has been sitting on my “to-read” pile for months: “Trick Mirror” by Jia Tolentino, a collection of essays on self-delusion. Some of the essays are about the Internet, a lot of them are about feminism in the 21st century, and one examines Tolentino’s stint on a reality TV show. 

So far, “The I in the Internet” has stuck with me the most. In this essay, Tolentino traces the Internet’s humble beginnings to its current form as a time-draining, soul-sucking monstrosity. She then explores how “likes” and “retweets” have taken the place of real-life activism. How a surprising parallel can be drawn between scrolling and “rat behavior” (staring at our phone is rarely rewarding, but we keep at it on the off-chance that it will next time). And finally, how the Internet forces us to always be performing. We always have to be “on” for everyone — our family, our friends, our coworkers, and strangers all at once. So much of this resonated with me. I couldn’t help but think of all of the times I’ve read a headline on Twitter, “liked” the tweet, and kept scrolling without ever taking the time to read the article or think more critically about the issue. 

All of this has got me thinking about what’s working on the Internet (and what’s not) in today’s context. Gal Gadot and friends’ “Imagine” cover was practically booed off the Internet. Why? I think it’s because it’s easier to see through celebrities’ “retweet” activism and for their performances to feel fake. On the other hand, something that I’ve really enjoyed seeing are random livestreams on Instagram and Twitter from some of my favorite artists. They too are performing, but I think the difference is that they are explicit about the purpose of their performance. Gadot’s cover sounds like millionaires’ pity, a favorite musician’s livestream sounds like your favorite music.

Maybe what’s most comforting about the Internet right now though, is what Tolentino condemns as rat-like: scrolling. Tiger King and Fiona Apple’s Fetch the Bolt Cutters have made for fresh Internet fodder. The collective experience of quarantine has made for a daily new batch of memes, challenges, and viral videos. And honestly, it’s all pretty comforting. My immediate reaction to reading “The I in the Internet” was to get off of the Internet forever. By the next afternoon though, I had succumbed to the blue light. I have too much time on my hands not to give in to pleasant, mind-numbing distractions. Still, I think that it’s incredibly important to be critical of the Internet itself, as well as the content it produces, as people are glued to their screens now more than ever.

Honestly, the premise of this post is a bit of a stretch. But stick with me. 

Being cooped up inside has made me discover some things I should have watched/listened to/enjoyed a long time ago. One of those things is the British TV series “Fleabag,” specifically Season 2. For those who haven’t seen it yet, “Fleabag” is a dark and hilarious portrait of a woman trying to heal from her traumatic past. I ate up all 12 episodes in less than 48 hours. 

When I finished binge-watching the show at 3AM, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I looked up reviews. I watched interviews. I re-watched episodes. And when I found out there wouldn’t be a third season, I felt a wave of sadness, then contentment. Finally, I wondered why. Why had I gotten so invested? What was so special about “Fleabag”? Then Carly Rae Jepsen came to mind.

I was similarly late to listening to Jepsen’s music when I dived into it last summer. I had heard rumblings of how she was so much more than the “Call Me Maybe” girl and I finally set aside time to find out for myself. The rumblings were right. Her latest two albums, Emotion and Dedicated are 80s-inspired pop perfection. I ended up working my way through her discography just as quickly as I consumed episodes of “Fleabag.” But that’s not why I made the connection between the two.

Instead, I think that both operate by touching on a very particular, addictive yet completely obliterating feeling. Both “Fleabag” and Jepsen’s music let you sink your teeth into the “almost.”
Throughout Season 2, the main character in “Fleabag” is on the cusp of a forbidden relationship. Played by the show’s creator and writer, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, this character is having her comeback and the viewer finally feels like she has a real shot at love. Unfortunately, that love is for someone unattainable. A priest.

Strangely enough, Jepsen’s music covers the same theme. I’m not the first one to point this out (a superfan wrote a 150-page essay on the “Jepsen pattern” you can check out here: https://www.ascarnooneelsecansee.com/), but pretty much all Jepsen sings about is longing. She never gets the guy. The relationship never works out for her. But Jepsen’s also never openly heartbroken about it. She just really, really likes this guy and wants him to know it.

I can’t picture Waller-Bridge’s character singing along to “I Really Like You” or “Cut to the Feeling.” Mostly, I think, because she’s British. But the feelings are there. Both “Fleabag” and Carly Rae Jepsen’s music make not quite getting what you wanted feel magical and frustratingly fulfilling. A difficult feat. 

,

When life is “normal” I think our routines and interactions prompt our listening habits. For example, in the gym you might listen to a hip-hop playlist on Spotify. Studying at the library, maybe you put on classical music or “lo-fi beats.” But what happens when you don’t go anywhere? Or see anyone? What does music sound like when every day is the same?

Personally, I’ve gone through a few different phases.

1. Denial. Not denial of the current situation of course but denial of its effect on me. Maybe a better title for this phase then would be “Escapism.” Regardless, my first week of social isolation was spent curating a dance playlist. I was determined to “stay positive!” and the tunes of Stevie Wonder, Kehlani, the Jonas Brothers and Taylor Swift definitely helped.
2. Discovery. Finally I had all this time to listen to new albums. Whether I hadn’t gotten around to them in the bustle of my typical school week or they were a new release in quarantine, I filled the gap left by gym and studying music with music I hadn’t heard before. How sweet to soak in new songs undistracted, but how sad that they might always be tinged with the weirdness of the first time I heard them. This week was full of Conan Gray and Ingrid Andress’s debut albums, Dua Lipa’s sophomore effort, and 5 Seconds of Summer’s latest record.
3. Deep Dive. More recently, I found myself looking up “2012 Country Music Hits” and latching on to Luke Bryan’s spring break-themed albums. I understand how that might be perceived as a cry for help, but don’t worry. This listening phase is all about nostalgia. It’s a second wave of escapism, high school edition. I had no idea three weeks ago that songs like “Suntan City” and “Spring Breakdown” would bring me so much comfort. But they do. Go figure.
4. Darkness. As I’m writing this, I can sense the dawn of a new chapter in my quarantine music saga. Reality is setting in. Or, at least it’s getting harder to push away. The news is so overwhelming that I’ve been drawn toward music that feels small and warm and quiet. As I’m writing this, I’ve been listening to “Lonely Together” by Caitlyn Smith on repeat. 

So what does music sound like when the world hits pause? As best as I can figure, it sounds like whatever keeps us sane in the moment. Rooted in place, time can start to feel numbing. But music is a way to change that — to boost your mood or switch your lens. What have you been listening to?

(Image Source: Unsplash)

Like a lot of homebound students these days, I’ve been spending an embarrassing amount of time on TikTok. It’s an app that allows users to share their own short-form music videos, stories, artwork, and anything else that might garner attention. Given this freedom, the content makes for easy entertainment and a simple way to start getting creative. Therefore, I’ve decided to think more about how users choose to present various forms of art through TikTok.

The way that artists show off visual work on TikTok, for example, is an art in itself. A successful presentation requires the right song, the right length of time spent on different processes, and a quick snippet of the final result — so you’re forced to watch over and over again to get another glimpse at it. The pieces I’ve seen have ranged from paintings to cartoons to restyling vintage clothing. Although the clips are inspiring and make the work seem easy, they’re almost never constructed as tutorials. Instead, the fun of it is in the mystery of the product’s completion and the quick gratification a viewer gets from seeing it finished.

It wouldn’t be right to talk about TikTok without bringing up dance trends. TikTok dances are designed to go viral — meaning that almost anyone can do them. One dance that got a lot of press recently is the “Renegade.” Aside from successfully spreading across the Internet, a question that the “Renegade” has brought up is about ownership. If someone is promoting their drawings on the app, they can post their website in their bio and start profiting off of their work, but if someone choreographs a dance that gets famous on the app, they go unrecognized. That’s what happened to 14 year old “Renegade” creator Jalaiah Harmon. Viral dances have to be flirtatious, eye-drawing, short, and replicable all at once – which is why I think the conversation about who gets credit is rightfully going to continue. 

My favorite TikToks are story times. Similar to sharing visual art, people who share a story usually leave the punchline for the very end. Many start with the opener “Put a finger down if-” and then the narrator proceeds to share something totally insane that has probably only ever happened to them. Storytelling, like all other art forms, takes skill. TikTok storytelling specifically highlights the importance of tone, humor, details, and keeping the listeners’ attention.

TikTok thrives because it’s based on our incredibly short attention spans. One minute I’m watching an impression and the next I’m staring at an adorable puppy. There are tons of ways people get creative on the app, many outside of the three trends I discussed above. Almost anyone can get involved and a user can get “TikTok famous” with nothing but a funny idea. However, I should be clear that this post is not a TikTok endorsement. As with any social media platform, TikTok can spread mean-spirited content and, alongside various other issues, it can be extraordinarily addictive. Admittedly, I’ve decided to take a break from TikTok for the time being. 

(Image Source: Media Frenzy Global)

It’s hard to ignore that so much has changed in the time between my last blog post and this one. If someone had told me three weeks ago that I would have all the time in the world to sit at home and read in the very near future, I wouldn’t have believed them. Admittedly though, I would have been pretty excited by the prospect of it. Therefore, I’m trying to take an opportunistic outlook on having to hunker down. One of those opportunities was finishing a book I’ve been reading titled Rise Up!: Broadway and American Society from Angels in America to Hamilton.

Something immediately striking to me while I was reading was how many musicals are adaptations of something else. The obvious ones are Disney musicals (which, if we look even closer, are adaptations of other stories themselves) and Disney-adjacent musicals like SpongeBob SquarePants: The Broadway Musical and Shrek The Musical. Further, this phenomenon spans from the silly to the critically-acclaimed to the classic musical. For example, it’s well-known that Hamilton was developed based off of Ron Chernow’s biography Alexander Hamilton and Wicked is a prequel to The Wizard of Oz. 

Maybe this discussion would feel pretty basic to a theatre major, but as a casual musical fan I find it fascinating. Mash-ups of semi-original and semi-adaptive content feel less common in other realms of art. Still, it makes sense. One of the goals of a musical, as far as I can tell, is to combine lots of different things seamlessly. Musical haters will joke that breaking out into song isn’t realistic, but I think that’s what makes everything click together. Besides, if you’re going to base a show off of something as wacky as Monty Python and the Holy Grail (Spamalot) or turn something dear like Sesame Street into something vulgar (Avenue Q), you might as well add some singing in too, why not?

After reading Rise Up!, I was inspired to branch out from my typical musical soundtrack rotation. So far, I’ve listened to Six, a pop concert put on by King Henry XIII’s six wives, and American Idiot, a show based on the Green Day concept album of the same name. It’s fun to think about why certain choices in either show were made and even more inspiring to think about all of the potential for other musicals in the same vein. It gets you thinking — because practically anything can be set to music, practically anything can be a musical. 

Which means that right now while we’re all social distancing, who knows what musicals are in the works? Maybe in a few years, Quarantine The Musical will be the next big thing. That being said, the pressure to be productive with all this free time should never outweigh the need to take care of your mental health. With all of this uncertainty, surviving is enough.

(Image Source: Broadway Direct)