Please Don’t Sing About Donald Trump

Two years into his presidency, musicians have formed a consensus about Donald Trump: he’s a subpar president whose style of governing leaves much to be desired. Most of them don’t seem to care for his behavior one bit, and I don’t blame them. I don’t like to get too political, but heck, I’ll just say it: I don’t really enjoy Donald Trump as president either. I’ve been underwhelmed by much of his decision-making and have yet to really be blown away by anything he’s done. In fact, I think there’s a very real chance he’ll go down in history as one of our least great presidents.

Right when Trump got elected, there was a lot of chatter about how great it would be for art, as all of the brave artists would rally to “stick it to the man” and make their best work while suffering terribly. I was a bit more skeptical. I don’t think a bunch of assholes running the country is the sort of thing that spurs creativity and I’m familiar with how artists get when they feel like they need to “speak their truth” about current events. So I knew what we were really in for: a lot of songs that preach to the choir, pretending to be really daring while having an ineffectual “Trump stinks, maaaaaaaannnnnnn” tone. When I hear songs like this, I understand for a moment why the GOP is so passionate about cutting funding to the arts.

Everyone knows I’m not the type to rip into specific artists and mock their craft. That isn’t what this blog is about, and I would never use this space to add more negativity into the world. So I won’t bash specific artists (like, say, The 1975) for making music that I feel is about pandering to people with obvious talking points. Instead, like always, I want to focus on the positive: an artist who has managed to make music about these times that resonates without resorting to condescending lyrics and false bravado.

The album I’m talking about here is Julia Holter’s Aviary. When it came time to rank my favorite albums at the end of the year, this was the hardest one to peg because it had so much going on and it was hard to tell if I liked the music or just liked the process of listening to the music (I have no idea if this makes sense). Clocking in at a ridiculous 90 minutes, it’s an album that clearly is making a point through excess. There is an unreasonable amount going on even in each song, they all seem to run a little too long, and there are way too many of them. It’s not quite impenetrable, but it asks a lot of anyone listening to it.

This is all reminiscent of what living in 2018 is like, where there is a lot of overstimulation and it becomes difficult to tell what is real and what matters, particularly when it comes to political news. Her twist is to turn all that mind-numbing chaos and noise into something beautiful so that the album also functions as an escapist fantasy world, similar to Björk’s UtopiaAviary has a lot to say about life right now, but it always shows the listener instead of telling. All of its moods are conveyed through sound and feeling.

What I come back to with Holter’s album is how it challenged the listener and rewarded them for putting in the effort. Because it was this mountain to climb, I wanted to keep listening and thinking about it until I made it to the top. Music that is explicitly about Trump could never hope to accomplish that unique feeling because the artist has chosen to anchor themselves to the type of tired commentary heard on Saturday Night Live. An album like Aviary, on the other hand, understands there is no value in telling people what they already know.

The appeal of the obvious topical music is that it is perceived to be offering a window into these times and capturing a certain mood of the populace. I have never really bought into that as a reason to praise music. Every artist is living in the present and on albums like Aviary, those traits organically came out because she was channeling her experiences and mindset into art. That holds true for every artist, even if they’re making shoegaze music with no discernible lyrics. There are many more ways to comment on life and society than quoting Trump’s Access Hollywood tape in your song.

A Defense of Artists in Their 30s

While Emma Ruth Rundle topped my year-end list for the second time in three years, I didn’t see her on any list published by a major music website, which I tracked for fun through Metacritic and this spreadsheet by Rob Mitchum. In and of itself, this is no big deal. A lot of music I love doesn’t appeal much to others and I would never expect it to be on anyone else’s list. But Rundle is different: my success rate with recommending her music to people is extremely high and I’ve converted many people I talk with about music into fans. And while many artists I love are languishing in complete obscurity, Rundle is on a reasonably well-known label (Sargent House) and has a passionate, growing fanbase who sold out her shows on her last American tour. I also don’t feel that her music is all that impenetrable; it’s unique but has its roots in hook-heavy rock that is in a similar musical space as many albums on these sorts of lists.

It’s ridiculous to say an album must make everyone’s year-end list, but given just how many albums get charted at the end of each year, it’s odd to me that Rundle has been completely shut out by all critics after delivering consecutive incredible albums. I really don’t think it’s strictly a matter of me having different taste. I’m convinced she’s victim to certain biases in the music media that have caused her great music to be undervalued or overlooked completely. Maybe it’s a waste of time to think or care about this, but I feel like the best thing I can do with this tiny platform is try to correct what I perceive as wrongs by these larger outlets.

The more I think about it, the more I think Rundle’s biggest issue is that her career arc is… untidy. Part of what the music media likes to do is frame narratives about artists by crafting these arcs, and they like to start young so they can have control over the story. The artist’s first album is the “breakthrough,” then the second is their Best New Music “statement” and the third is their “magnum opus.” Then they “decline” from there and the media moves on to a new crop of young artists. Obviously this pattern doesn’t always hold true and it’s a large generalization, but I think anyone who pays attention to music criticism has witnessed something resembling this cycle repeat itself over and over.

This year, I noticed a lot of really young songwriters who are in the same musical ballpark as Rundle and seemed to be early in that media cycle — I’m talking about artists like Lucy Dacus, Snail Mail, boygenius, Soccer Mommy, etc. They’re on their first or second album, which means they’re getting promoted as “exciting new voices.” They’re talented artists, but it’s hard not to view the hype around them as being linked to their age and relative inexperience, which lets the media tell a new story with unlimited possibilities while appealing to a younger demographic. (I also want to stress that this doesn’t mean people who love these artists are being “tricked” into liking them or anything — I just think these artists were given a chance to be heard that wasn’t afforded to many artists with similar talent.)

Then there is Emma Ruth Rundle, who played in like three different bands and released several albums before finding her voice (in my opinion) on 2016’s Marked For Death at age 33. I liked all of her music even before that album, but I feel she has taken a massive step forward with her solo works. And the path she took to those albums was a real joy to listen to because I could hear her improve and figure out who she was over a course of several years. But the media doesn’t have time or patience for that kind of story: they want artists to come out of the gate fully formed at a young age so they can be out in front promoting something that feels fresh and hip. I strongly believe that if Rundle were 10 years younger, the reaction to her music from the media would be much different.

The problem with that is Rundle needed to make all those albums before she could arrive at her sound on Marked for Death. The typical musician narrative where they peak right away in their early 20s is wildly unrealistic and just untrue most of the time. It’s caused a lot of young artists to be hyped too soon and has caused a trend where artists deeper into their careers are consistently taken for granted. Every artist is on a different path and not all are going to follow the same tidy arc that is applied to everyone.

Of course, this is something I want to believe, since I’m almost 30 and feel like I’m still improving at my craft all the time and have barely even lived yet. And I think that’s part of why I am relating more to artists who have taken more winding routes to success. Now I really enjoy hearing artists at different stages of their journeys, whether it’s Rundle or someone like Melody Prochet, who took six years to release her second album that completely blew away my expectations (and also, believe it or not, was left off almost all year-end lists). There are inspirational stories to be found in those albums, even if the media isn’t telling them.

My Best and Worst Posts of 2018

A necessary part of being a small-time writer on a blog that doesn’t get much traffic is the ability to self-critique. I don’t get much in the way of serious feedback and some of my posts get barely any views, so I usually have to decide for myself whether it was successful or not. I think this is one of my strengths as a writer — just like I enjoy picking apart an album, I enjoy looking back at my own work and learning from my successes and failures, and I think I’m able to do it more objectively and honestly than most.

So as a possible learning experience and therapeutic exercise of sorts (plus a way to shamelessly plug posts someone might have missed), I thought I’d look back at the year I had and see if there are any takeaways from what I have deemed successes and failures. Let’s start with the good ones, in no particular order.


The Legacy of Trish Keenan Series

This is something that’s been rattling in my head forever because I’m such a fan of Keenan and so dismayed at how little her music gets discussed. I kept putting it off because I felt a lot of pressure to get everything right and usually would doubt my capabilities to do something on this scale. I’m only partway through it, but so far I think I’ve done justice to her career and have done it in a way that is unique to my blog.

Part of how I generate ideas now is to think about the type of writing I wish there was more of, and this is something I never see on other music websites: deep appreciation and enthusiasm for an artist, especially one who isn’t current. The One Week One Band tumblr is the closest I’ve seen and was the main inspiration for this. Almost all other music websites are obsessed with the now and are chasing clicks through news items, reviews, and controversial opinions. They also focus on an objective, academic style that drains the writing of any personality or joy for music.

So the broader takeaway that I like from this series is that it’s providing something different. I want to give a personal perspective and provide analysis of artists I love, regardless of their popularity or how they fit into the “conversation,” and this series serves as a baseline of what I want to accomplish. Now I just need to finish it, which is difficult since there’s so much to talk about.

This New Janelle Monae Song is Not Good

In a similar vein, I think other websites don’t have nearly enough negative criticism. I can understand why: it’s risky to potentially piss off readers, and a lot of blogs try to cultivate positive relationships with artists so they can promote each other. One upside of my lone wolf approach is that I owe nobody anything, so I can say something sucks if I think it does.

It’s reasonable to ask what the purpose is of just unleashing some negativity, especially towards an artist of this stature. A lot of it is my belief in just being honest: any real music fan has these moments where they despise something, even if it’s irrational, and I want to capture that strong emotion. The Pollyanna approach almost everyone else takes isn’t real and doesn’t actually serve artists or art. In an odd way, I think my post is more complimentary to Monae than the thousands of “YASS QUEEEN” cheerleading articles, because I’m actually taking her work seriously and engaging with it. And I realize nobody really understands this concept of criticism anymore, but I believe strongly in it and want to keep doing it.

There is also some strategic value to this, because I want to provide a context where potential readers understand that I don’t just love everything I listen to. This way, it means something if I am praising an album I do enjoy. That said, it’s important to pick targets judiciously, and even at my most negative, I usually make an effort to respect the artists and not diminish them or their fans on a personal level (except for the Black Keys).

Beyond all this, I think this might have been my strongest writing on a pure sentence-to-sentence level. It flows really well and I think it’s constructed in a way that is persuasive, even if pretty much no one on earth seems to share my dismay at Janelle Monae’s career path.

“How You Remind Me” Is a Perfect Song

Usually when I write about music, I don’t get a chance to show off my incredible sense of humor. It occurred to me recently that part of why music writing isn’t resonating with me much is that it’s so serious all the time. Everyone lately is treating music like it’s in a museum and must be treated with total solemnity, when half the fun is talking shit and disagreeing with people.

So this was my attempt to just write something silly, while still providing some level of analysis that I hadn’t seen articulated much elsewhere. I don’t think I’d want every post to be like this one, but it worked as a change of pace and as a way to show personality/voice that isn’t seen much at professional outlets. And maybe it was funny — I’m not actually sure.

The Landmark Feminine Vision of Hounds of Love

This is the type of post I used to shy away from: tackling some iconic album where it feels like little old me has nothing to add to the discourse. But this one has a personal angle, and I think it has that balance of voice/experience/analysis that I’m trying to do. It is still a little clunky at parts and maybe runs too long in terms of explaining every part of the album, but I thought it was still a good step just to write about such an intimidating work.

Becky Lynch is Making Wrestling Real

I ended up writing three different posts about Lynch as I got obsessed with her story right as I also hit a bit of a lull in music this year. My first two were kind of bad, since I was writing about a new subject and felt I had to fill in a lot of esoteric details for non-wrestling fans. But I thought on this one my perspective on the subject was more accessible, and I made an argument for why Lynch is an artist and wrestling, despite its obvious stupidity, is sometimes worth taking seriously. I don’t know if I’ll keep doing wrestling posts (nobody seemed to enjoy them), but if I do, they’ll hopefully be like this one.


That’s enough of how great I am. Let’s examine some of my humiliating atrocities from this year.

Naomi Osaka Meets Her Hero

For those that don’t know, I once aspired to be a sportswriter and currently work in the sports industry. I know a disturbing amount about sports (way more than I know about music) and so I wanted to try to bring that side of myself to this blog. Unfortunately, the problem remains that sportswriting is really boring and it’s almost impossible to have a unique perspective on any event that happens. In this one, I framed it as characters and drama, but it just didn’t really work and I was somewhat embarrassed to have published it. I like the occasional departure, but this was a mistake.

Look What You Made Me Do

One of the unique aspects of this blog is how I completely shun popular celebrity culture and try to focus on artists who aren’t being written about incessantly. I threw that away when I wrote this Taylor Swift essay because I thought I had a unique enough perspective and it would be entertaining. Neither of those things were true and I think this was just bad. I felt gross after publishing it. Let’s not do this again.

Oh Right, This is a Music Blog

This one isn’t bad in and of itself, but it’s a type of post I’ve realized is ineffective: the album round-ups thing where I just throw music out there and write a paragraph or two about it. I don’t think it ends up serving anyone, because I feel no sense of accomplishment from writing it and I don’t really do justice to the albums, and then anyone who reads probably isn’t that compelled to listen based on the two paragraphs I wrote. There were great albums featured in this post and I should have just written separate reviews instead of crapping this out.

My Best and Worst Posts of 2018

This started out as a good idea — honest self-reflection that would help articulate some of my process — but ended up being a work of bloated self-indulgence. At the end of the day, nobody cares that much about my process and I should have kept this to myself. I would be shocked if anyone even read the entire thing.