REVIEW: Zeros

Ever since his win at the Glastonbury Festival’s Emerging Talent Competition in 2015, the music world has had its eye on English singer-songwriter Declan McKenna. At the time of his victory, the rising star was just 16 years old.  Less than a year later, McKenna was taking the indie rock scene by storm with his breakout single “Brazil,” an upbeat critique of the 2014  FIFA World Cup and its suspected corruption scandal. Shortly after, McKenna put out his debut album, titled What Do You Think About the Car? to mixed, but overall positive reviews. With a few standout songs, and an eclectic, energetic combination of  garage rock, jazz, and synth-pop, the young star’s first album made him one to watch. After a three year interval, McKenna has finally released his second album;   Zeros, which debuted in August,  is an artistic triumph that maintains McKenna’s unique energy while offering the depth and consistency that his first album lacked. 

While What Do You Think About the Car? was branded a very political album, thanks to its numerous social critiques of topics such as political corruption, inequality, media frenzy, and religious hypocrisy,  Zeros  has taken this message to another level, while also creating a layered story for the listener to follow. The unity of the album is truly one of its strengths, not just in sound, but also in theme. Zeros takes place in some sort of dystopia, or wasteland, perhaps suggesting we have left the days where we could make societal improvements, as McKenna begged us to do in his first album, behind. Many critics have compared the overall feel to an episode of Black Mirror, and I have to agree: there is something truly sinister going on here. The story often follows Daniel, who first appears in the song  “Daniel, You’re Still a Child,” and crops up numerous other times throughout the album. This particular song is one of McKenna’s best, with a catchy chorus reminiscent of some of McKenna’s own influences, namely U2. 

The sound, marketing, and topic of the album are very united in this futuristic theme, while also taking on a retro feel. Many of McKenna’s other idols, like Queen and David Bowie, are also  clearly represented across the tracks. All in all this album is much more “rock and roll” than the rhythmic pleas of What do You Think About the Car?  Personally, I think “Rapture” is the best song on the album, and truly McKenna at his finest: it meshes apocalyptic, desperate lyrics with strong guitar licks, retro drums, and of course, McKenna’s unique vocal presence that is arguably the star of any track. It represents a more mature sound that many of his previous hits failed to quite attain, and is a real step in the right direction for the future of McKenna’s music. 

Though I did appreciate the more showy, rock and roll feel of this album, I also would have liked to see a little more of McKenna’s own roots, as opposed to just the influences of other rock legends. At times, the inspiration felt a little heavy handed, and I wish he would try less to emulate these greats, like Queen and Bowie, and try more to simply infuse his own music with a touch of their influence. Though it had its shortcomings, one of the strengths of McKenna’s first album was his own novel approach to the rock genre and his refusal to be put in one box sound-wise. I liked that Zeros was more cohesive, but I wish it had a song or two more reminiscent of the raw, emotive songs from his earlier discography, namely “Bethlehem” or  “Basic.”

Overall, this album remains a great success for McKenna, and I think it rounds out his discography nicely. Dynamic and distinctive, McKenna still refuses to let his sound be nailed down, and I think he will only continue to evolve in the future. I urge you to check out his entire discography for some social critiques with a good beat and captivating vocals. Zeros has solidified McKenna’s role as an artist to watch for years to come. 

 

REVIEW: I Used to Go Here

I think everyone on campus can agree that life in our quintessential college town has changed drastically in the midst of this pandemic. The Big House is vacant, the diag is quiet, and the tailgate scene is virtually nonexistent; even house parties seem few and far between. If you miss that long ago feeling of Ann Arbor pre-pandemic- when the thought of being in a crowded basement with 40 strangers sounded like a fun Friday night instead of a sure way to catch Covid, then I have the movie for you. From wherever this pandemic has put you, be it off campus, on campus, or the North Campus quarantine dorms, stream  I Used to Go Here from director Kris Rey for a nostalgic reminder of life in a flourishing college town, and all the emotional turmoil that goes along with it. 

The film follows Kate, played by Gillian Jacobs, as she struggles to navigate this somewhat delayed coming of age story. Though once a star writing student at the fictional Illinois University, Kate is now in her mid thirties, alone, and picking up the pieces of a failed long-term relationship while her recently published book flounders in the press. Unlike her friends, who have moved on and begun families, it seems Kate cannot find a purpose, and longs for the days when her world was nothing more than the college town where she first fell in love with writing.  Though a bit slow at the start, the heart of the story comes once Kate’s former writing professor, David (Jemaine Clement), invites her back to that very town to do a reading of her new book. There, Kate is faced with the fact that her own college days are fifteen years behind her, and spends a wild week with a group of current students who remind her of both the invigorating rush and newfound accountability that is early adulthood. 

Though Jacobs gives a convincing performance, her college aged counterparts are the ones who steal the show. The characters Hugo (Josh Wiggins) and April (Hannah Marks) offer especially heart-wrenching performances that truly capture the confusion of young love, and its paradoxical combination of inexperience and unfamiliar responsibility. Even in their most tender moments, these characters come across so charmingly naive that they paint an accurate picture of college students, while still offering a hint of comic relief. Friends of this duo,  Emma (Khloe Janel), Animal (Forrest Goodluck), and Tall Brandon (Brandon Daley), are also genuinely hilarious. This is where the writing truly shines. As a nineteen year old, I don’t often come across movies that accurately write the way teenagers really talk and behave; all in all, I think this film portrayed them pretty believably, not to mention hysterically- props to writer Kris Rey for that. 

Throughout the film, comedy is actually pretty consistent. David, Kate’s washed-up professor, is comically self absorbed, a trait which is only bolstered by praise from Kate and his other female students. With his God-complex on full display, David is a very familiar, and yet still believable, depiction of a self-important male professor who thrives off of validation from his inferiors. Additionally,  I do appreciate that even the lesser characters, like tour guide grad student Elliot (Rammel Chan) are fleshed out and funny. Elliot’s people pleasing responses to even the most ridiculous requests are delightful to witness, as is Kate’s disastrous reunion with her creepy former classmate, Bradley, played by Jorma Taccone. The side characters are pretty entertaining, and as a comedy, this movie functions well. 

The one area where I have a problem is the more emotional side. I think Kate fell a little flat, as did her side of the story in terms of her book. Until the very end of the movie, it is unclear why her book failed and how it relates to her own character development. At times, the movie felt very choppy as a result of this disconnect.  I think the comedy needed to be more carefully interwoven with the heavier elements. Kate lives in her own world as a character, but I feel that the audience was not brought deeply enough into it with her. I felt more of a connection with others who had significantly less screen time, just because their motivations and emotions were a lot more developed on screen. 

That being said, I did really enjoy this film, and found it touching nonetheless. The comedic elements were stronger than the emotional ones, but it still did make me sit and reflect on my own college experience, and where I want to be fifteen years from now.   If you do watch it, be warned, you may feel more than a little nostalgic for the way our town used to be. You can currently stream I Used to Go Here at the Michigan Theater website (https://www.michtheater.org/screenings/i-used-to-go-here/), and I urge you to do so, as both an escape from this pandemic and a reminder of the experiences still on the horizon once we can take our masks off again.

REVIEW: Hometown Hero

If you took a moment to step out of the abrasive Michigan cold and into 202 South Thayer, you might also get the feeling you were stepping into the living room of any family in America. This is the first impression that the Institute for the Humanities’ latest exhibit provides. The space of the interior is small, homey, and inviting: a worn armchair slumps before a flickering TV, nestled atop a plush rug. The area is peaceful and dim, inviting you to sit down, take a load off, relax. However, just one more look may put you on edge; something sinister swirls around the sleepy scene, something not quite right. In an instant it hits, the glaringly obvious: the well worn chair is not upholstered with plaid, or gingham, or any fabric you’d expect, but instead, horrifyingly, with a Confederate Flag.

As I came to this realization, a strange feeling settled into my stomach. The space is a portrait of middle class America gone eerily wrong, while remaining hauntingly familiar. I believe this difficult truth is exactly what artist Valery Jung Estabrook aims to capture in her installation, titled “Hometown Hero (Chink): An American Interior.” Growing up an Asian American in Virginia, Estabrook’s work seems to reflect her desire to maintain a Southern identity while acknowledging that her home state is not a universally accepting place.

Upon closer inspection, the room only becomes more unsettling. It is beautifully crafted, hand sewn by Estabrook in chenille. Everything is plush, down to the crumpled beer cans, and the rifles limply mounted to the wall. This choice in medium suggests the space as something tied down, as if the room had grown roots. Its refusal to budge seems to reflect the nature of the traditional, antiquated Old South that Estabrook hoped to portray. Sewn portraits of Confederate soldiers dot the walls, only strengthening this message. Like everything else in the room, they are slightly fantastical: General Jackson’s head floats inches above his shoulders, and Lee is adorned with a faint halo. A southern cityscape hangs as well, its innocuous presence contrasting with the eerie romanticization of the Confederacy.

While the entire room suggests nostalgia for antebellum America, scenes on the television reflect how this longing for the past affects Estabrook. Clips on the TV depict the difficult relationship Estabrook has with her race and her Southern identity; one such video is a Twinkie commercial, “Twinkie” being a derogatory nickname for Asian Americans. Perhaps the video that captures Estabrook’s question of identity best is one of the artist herself lip syncing Tammy Wynette’s famous southern ballad, “Stand by Your Man.” In a blond wig with dark roots, singing an iconic country song, Estabrook embodies the struggle of balancing her Southern identity with her Asian heritage. Haunting and hypnotizing, this performance tied together the message of the entire installation.

Even after two viewings, I don’t feel I’ve picked up on every meaningful detail that the installation includes. Although the effect of the chenille coating the room is interesting in itself, the piece only becomes more moving with Estabrook’s history and story. I highly recommend viewing this homage to an America that we wish to forget, but one that is still instrumental to our history. “Hometown Hero (Chink): An American Interior” will be on display through March 12th. A visit can save you from the chill outside while still sending a chill down your spine.