Since Mac Miller’s tragic departure I haven’t been able to listen to songs from Swimming without listening to the album in its entirety. It feels wrong, like I’m disrupting a narrative, selectively choosing the moments I want like YouTubing scenes from my favorite movie to get my fix; as though art is the the toxic agent instead of the antidote.
But as I was listening to an algorithmically curated playlist the other day, somewhere between YBN Cordae’s Locationships and Lil’ Baby’s Pure Cocaine, Ladders came on. Interesting placement, I thought. On my worst day I’d even entertain the reality that Spotify was intentionally staging a coup on my most precious organ (heart, in case there was any confusion.)
But that day, the sun was beaming across my pocket of Brooklyn, the taco truck looked especially well lit, and I don’t know if the birds were chirping but if someone told me they were I’d believe them. In that moment, my mind played a highlight reel of the last two years’ events and I felt whole.
What starts off as a haunting musing on life’s ups and downs transcends into a celebratory ode to the unpredictability and messiness of our time on this planet. The irony of the message when inspected under the lens of Mac’s life is not lost on me. Even the song’s production feels like a ladder itself, a procession of sounds assembling into an uplifting crescendo.
The horns are an especially divine presence. I shamefully took them for granted at first because I regarded the song as sad and ominous. It wasn’t until further listening I realized how they subtly prance around in the background, making a big splash later on. When Mac mumbles, “we don’t need no more, no extra, we all we got.,” the horns claim their real estate like an underline and exclamation point. A musical reminder to me of how simple it is to focus on looming negativity and a streak of bad luck, but if you pay more attention you’ll realize there is much to be thankful for even in life’s dips.
A lot of the personal work I’ve done in the last few years was in an effort to break myself out of the jail anxiety can often feel like. Shockingly, it doesn’t actually go away completely but it took a long time to realize how unfair it is to myself and the experiences I have yet to have, to be cloaked in the cynicism of who I used to be and events that once were.
I hope this didn’t sound too preachy because I’m not successful every day (most days) and everything can get pretty dark, but in these moments I will try to remember the horns. Maybe you will too.