Category: Uncategorized

“Here’s to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life.”

– F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and the Damned

Earlier this week, I was perusing the National Public Radio website when I saw an interview with author Olivia Laing titled ‘The Mythos of the Boozing Writer.’ Laing talked to an interviewer about her new book, ‘Trip to Echo Spring,’ which explores the alcoholism of a selection of famous, beloved American writers.

It hadn’t occurred to me that the stereotype of the ‘boozing writer’ was surrounded by mythology – in fact, I hadn’t even questioned that it was true. The alcoholism of writers such as Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald seemed to me a characteristic both inextricable from their personas and intertwined with the substance of most of their work.

Although the stereotype of the heavy-drinking writer is based in reality – a huge amount of beloved American writers have been alcoholics, including 4 of the 6 Americans who have won the Nobel Prize for literature – Laing argues that many famous alcoholic writers, worked so hard to establish a romanticized idea of the boozing writer mostly in order to cover up the darker realities of their own alcoholism. Laing suggests in her interview that Hemingway in particular was responsible glamorizing the idea of the heavy-drinking writer, creating a romanticized account of alcoholism that she says is in some ways ‘addicting in itself.’

In her book, Laing focuses specifically on Raymond Carver, John Berryman, Ernest Hemingway, Scott F. Fitzgerald, Tennessee Williams, and John Cheever – all writers who have produced some of the most beautiful and beloved literature of all time, and all virulent alcoholics. Although these famous writers rarely actually wrote drunk, they certainly thought of alcohol as an intrinsic part of the creative process, and often wrote about alcoholism. Here, the difference between these writers’ accounts of their alcohol consumption and the realities of their alcohol abuse becomes a kind of sore spot for many who love their work – if we often engage with the works of these greats with the assumption that their descriptive genius can provide us with penetrating truths, unfogged by pettiness or subterfuge, are we being cheated by the accidental artifice of an active alcoholic’s take on alcoholism?

Lewis Hyde’s essay ‘Alcohol and Poetry,’ which specifically investigates the effects of alcoholism on the works of John Berryman, was one of the first explorations of the myth of the creative alcoholic. In response to critics who fear that a prejudice against alcoholic authors could in some way deprive us of a beloved literary canon, Hyde has declared that he “would shudder to think of a culture that would canonize these voices without marking where they fail us.”

In Hyde’s opinion, the active alcoholic cannot write with veracity about alcoholism. These writer’s twisted takes on alcoholism stand as accidents, artistic failures in their legacy. But many alcoholic writers have also given us tragically discerning accounts of alcohol abuse. Laing argues that the writers she researches often leave out the darker side of alcoholism, quantified in lost jobs, destroyed relationships and damaged families. But not all of these writers shy away from this side of alcoholism – in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s ‘Tender is the Night,’ we watch Dick Diver deteriorate as his drinking problem becomes increasingly destructive; John Cheever’s famous short story ‘The Swimmer’ describes the tragedy of a declining alcoholic over the course of an increasingly surreal afternoon.

With the emergence of new scientific research, Alcoholics Anonymous, and 12 step programs, writers no longer control the broader cultural narrative on alcoholism. However, the mythology they have created still seems to control the narrative on alcoholism in creative communities. How significant is it that the ‘great writer’ is still usually pictured with a drink in hand? Of all of the points that Laing made in her interview, this one stuck with me: the alcoholism of great writers was less an effect of a riotous, inspired existence and more a symptom of deep, untreated depression. This may be the true failure of the intellectual community’s embrace of the ‘mythos of the boozing writer’ – it glamorizes, and in doing so dismisses, human suffering.

What a week of cold snowy winter we have had. Generally speaking I like to leave my house to do work, protecting my kitchen and bedroom so as not to taint those spaces with stress or procrastination. As I cycle through my favorite study spots I’m able to preserve home base and maintain a refuge. But this week has been so bitterly cold that once making it home, if there is no absolute need to seek the outdoors, my feet slide into slippers and my legs into sweatpants before I have time to properly blow my nose. To my delight, I’ve managed to find equal levels of productivity at my kitchen table as I usually discover at the wooden tables on the first floor of the Grad. With the wind whistling and piercing my windows from outside, I’ve fallen into a routine of lighting candles, cooking up some stir fry while painfully trying to make it through the opened box of Franzia from weeks ago’s party, and steadily completing my work. But the element that has really enabled me to find solace and warmth at home has been the soulful pleasures of Tom Misch.

Mixing jazz, hip-hop, soul and funk, Tom Misch is a music producer from London. He is relatively new and unknown, despite his extraordinary talent. Tom sings, produces beats and plays the guitar and violin, combining all of these skills into his impressive repertoire of tracks. If a friend had not sent his Soundcloud page to me, I doubt I would have come across him in any foreseeable future. He’s so new that there’s no Wikipedia page about him, and none of my favorite blogs have mentioned his name yet. He appears a handful of times on the conglomerate music blog “The Hype Machine,” but mostly through UK blogs. His youth can only be seen as a hopeful characteristic; with such a strong start he surely has a spectacular career ahead of him.

Two of my favorite Tom Misch tracks also feature his sister, Laura Misch, who plays the saxophone. Together, the siblings shine and create Tom’s best kind of music. Laura’s soothing grooves on the saxophone create a wavy, relaxed and pleasant tone. They compliment her brother’s singing voice and even carry the songs. For instance, on “Follow,” Laura’s saxophone melodies actually serve as the dominant force in the track, even though Tom sings throughout the whole thing. His voice is not the most amazing sound around, but on top of Laura’s saxophone vibes it soars and the two blend together seamlessly. But after I’ve shut my laptop and continued on my day, the melody of the saxophone stays with me, not Tom’s words.

<Follow> 

In close competition with “Follow” is another track from the siblings called “Eems to Slide.” Here Tom’s guitar is much more noticeable than before, and masks the influence of Laura’s saxophone. The lyrics of “Eems to Slide” are catchy, unusual and quirky, adding another element to Tom’s sound. It is clear that Tom is first and foremost a producer, but he proves that he can also write and sing on top of his own beats. This track is a little bit bumpier and the flow is purposefully interrupted. It loses the strong jazz sound of “Follow” but gains a more electric and edgy tone that sets the stage for more ear-catching lyrics.

 <Eems to slide>

The final realm of Tom’s music repository is Hip-Hop. The majority of his Soundcloud page consists of wordless beats, which are much more obviously Hip-Hop than jazz. On a few he even samples famous artists, like A Tribe Called Quest on the track “Got It Goin’ On.” He pays tribute to legendary beatsmith J Dilla on the track “Dilla Love,” sampling a few of the master’s beats into his own creation, and also incorporates lyrics from a Mos Def song on another beat.

Tom Misch is doing what few other producers can: creating an authentically musical sound, with real foundations in jazz and soul, while still making marketable Hip-Hop beats. Instead of the loud and abrasive house music that most producers are trying to create, Tom is making true, fundamental music. And he’s just getting started.

Creation and production of art can lead to some pretty amazing results, but as I stared out the window of my discussion section this morning I realized that nature is one of the best artists around. There is something simultaneously intricate and simple about a tree . For a time, they are lush green giants that contrast the rich blues and whites of the sky. After a few months the monochromatic green develops into multicolored warmth, the branches strewn with bright oranges, reds, and yellows. As these graceful shapes drift gently to the ground, they reveal the elaborate skeleton they had been covering. A naked tree is really a beautiful thing. Stripped of its leaves, the branches jut and contort in ways that would seem impossible to keep it upright. No tree’s set of branches is like another. The wind gives motion to their existence. If the leaves are actors changing their costumes with the seasons, the branches are an interlude of dancers in the Winter season.

There is nothing like a tree. Tress to hug, trees to tell your secrets, trees to shelter you from the rain, trees to dance with you in the rain. A tree stands for strength, perseverance, and unity. They stand their ground through rain, sleet, snow, and heat until they are forcefully removed or slowly decayed by nature into a lying log. This is not their end, however. This is a new life. As they lie a whole new beauty appears, one that had been formerly overlooked. The trunk. A sculpture all its own. Rough outer, smooth within. Rings keeping track of all its years. The trunk is a storyteller. The trunk is generous, providing for the comfort of animals and humans alike. I love trees with all my heart. They are undeniably a work of art.

There are many things about me which could easily be used to define or explain who I am to a complete stranger. I am a 5’7” social liberal, fiscal conservative ginger studying electrical engineering and vocal performance. I am a townie turned student who never even considered a college other than Michigan, or that it might be a bad idea to pursue two unrelated majors. I am President of UMGASS and member of Eta Kappa Nu (HKN) who works 2 jobs in order to afford tuition, my accompanist and tickets to shows which I desperately wish to see. But more generally, I am undeniably a Type A.

Don’t believe me? Every moment of my day from 8:30 am – 10 pm is scheduled on my Google Calendar, including my 30 minute lunch break which doubles with memorization work. I carry a 5” notebook which I call “my little book of stress” everywhere in which I have a running to do list of everything that I need to get done. Unread emails (even in friends’ inboxes) stress me out and I am so afraid of being 5 minutes late to a meeting that often I will show up 20 – 30 minutes early.

The best part about being a Type A is that I know how to get things done. If given a deadline I will meet that deadline and will fulfill all the requirements of the task. The worst part is constantly fearing that I am not doing enough to secure a future for myself in my chosen career paths. This fear results in a “fire in my belly” that drives me to fight for what I most desperately want. In both music and engineering I believe I have found past success because of this drive.

When I first entered the music school, I asked my voice teacher what were the worst qualities about Alexandria as a performer. Without giving a blunt and demoralizing answer, she hinted that there were three issues which I and many members of my class needed to resolve in order to have a chance at a career in music:

1. Vocal Technique (get some).
2. Diction (learn them).
3. Resume (land some roles!)

Over the past 5 semesters I have worked tirelessly to fix the above issues in true Type A fashion. Vocally, I have practiced at least 1 hour daily, recording issues in a practice log and rewatching my voice lessons (I record them all for later viewing), noting what worked and what didn’t. I have taught myself IPA, taken the offered diction classes and spend at least 15 minutes a day on Duolingo refreshing my German and teaching myself Italian. Additionally, I have performed in 7 operas & operettas, 5 musicals & straight plays, 3 short films and numerous opera scenes & concerts.

So when I yet again questioned my voice teacher about what I need to fix about Alexandria the performer, I was surprised and confused by her answer. Rather than spouting a list of tasks to accomplish, I was informed that what has propelled me to success is now my biggest weakness. That the little voice in my head which has pushed me to success out of fear of failure, can be seen on my face when I perform. That my internal critique can be sensed by those in the audience and that my fear of failure insinuates to them that failure is imminent.

The concept of shutting down the voice inside my head was something so foreign to me that I had no idea how to begin this process, yet alone complete something which seemed so complex. Yet, my Professor (as always) had the answer: Don’t think, just sing.

While I will always be a Type A, I am now learning how to moderate when to let my drive for success into my head and when to forget my technique and lose myself in the music. It is in those times, singing for the love of music alone, that I know I cannot fail.