We’re approaching the end of April in this quarantine/lockdown/shelter in place/whatever you want to call it. To me, it isn’t hell but it does strike an odd resemblance to what I’d picture purgatory to be; this or perpetually stuck in a doctor’s waiting room but both evoke the same feeling.
I’m big on details. I love knowing that there’s a little yellow and some orange in my best friend’s green eyes. I like knowing that my mom was wearing red pants the day she first met my father and on their first date she ordered a rum and coke but pronounced it ‘rum and cock'.’ I laze in the knowledge that if I wake up early enough I can see the sunlight reflecting the shape of my fire escape onto my bedroom wall. Nothings that are somethings to me.
This affinity for the small things translates to how I consume music as well. That one electro sound on Drake’s, “Peak,” the rhythm on Tirzah’s, “Make It Up,” that pulsates like it’s some sort of morse code, or the nine hundred beat changes on Bad Bunny’s “Safaera” all these things stood out to me on first listens.
Before I dive in here, the effects of this health crisis are not lost on me. But it hasn’t just claimed lives and held normalcy captive but it’s left us with a shortage of details.
Every day I feel as though I’ve been staring at the same painted canvas for days on end, its nuance now normalized. This powerful piece of art has mutated into a mass produced inspirational quote framed and sold at Target. Okay maybe I didn’t have to get that dark but the overpowering indifference to my environment has broadened its reach and formed a tight grip on the music I love leaving me with a sense of detachment.
These days, nothing seems to sound quite how it did before, as though I’m listening from behind a closed door.
In this time, I’ve become a connoisseur of washing dishes and taking afternoon naps on bleak days like today. I’ve been throwing on recently released singles (James Blakes, “You’re Too Precious” and Leven Kali’s “PERFECT IS BORING” featuring Ty Dolla $ign) and EP’s (Kali Uchis’ TO FEEL ALIVE) from artists I usually can’t help but give all my focus to just to fill the inescapable silence. Some days it feels like a companion on other days it feels toxic.
I sit and wonder if these songs and projects are the artists’ piecemeal offerings because the quiet gets to be too much for them too. All of it feels like a bandaid for a broken ligament and the music is over too quickly but I’m thankful for it.
The other day, no match for the quiet, I was passively allowing it to wash over me as I sprawled out on a yoga mat in the living room, staring at the ceiling (new favorite activity). I started to notice new details and sounds emerging despite the aloofness I felt. The radiator hums intermittently throughout the day (she’s a Soprano), the rain droplets hit the window in an off beat pattern, and the high school orchestra teacher in apartment 4B live streams her classes until 1:45 p.m. It’s the only live music I’ve heard in weeks, I linger for a little too long in the stairwell just to soak it all in.
I also never really paid any attention to an artist’s decision to format a song’s title in all caps but now when I read them they all feel as though the artist is screaming; not out of anger, but yearning. Everyone is begging to break free, to laugh with their friends over nonsense, to hug and kiss and fuck, to drink $15 cocktails in dimly lit bars, to ride the G train, to confidently recite their bagel order in front of all the patrons in the fast moving line only to have it messed up. We are pleading for this (last one especially).
I can’t envision what the world will look like when we’re passed this: our streets, our neighbors, our relationships. I’m not sure how realistic it’ll be to hope for a return to how things used to be. But I do want to believe that in the absence of all that was, a newness will emerge. I can’t wait to discover those details.
