#HovelTunes

[digitalhovel]

The Narcissist Cookbook’s new album came at the perfect time for me

The Narcissist Cookbook’s new album, “This is How We Get Better” is one of my favorite albums I’ve ever listened to.

It’s not hard to see why. Narcissist Cookbook is a leftie, “queer icon???,” self-deprecating, honest, folksy, punky, artist. It’s right up my alley, and I would absolutely recommend it to anyone interested in folk/punk/folk punk. Especially because this album is no less honest, but perhaps more approachable than the previous albums.

This isn’t a statement against “Moth” or “Hymn.” Both of his previous albums are phenomenal works, but they’re also highly confessional. As he says in “Matador,” “The Narcissist Cookbook is an attempt to counterbalance that impulse / It's a reminder not to lock the scary things away / Whether they're bulls or ghosts or dragons / We don't run / From these things here / We don't dance around them / Ideally we don't even fight them / We just see them / Look directly at them / Try to understand them.” This creative spirit is part of the reason I love the Narcissist Cookbook. Above all else, the work is honest. It speaks to something sincere, wonderful, and often painful. “This is How We Get Better” is no less honest despite there not being any deeply confessional or personal moments. Instead, we receive a series of affirmations, degradations, and existential questions about life.

The album’s opener, “Practically Imperfect” sets the tone immediately. It is an anthem of bodily reclamation, and the acknowledgement that many people can see the beauty in others’ flaws but not their own. Maybe it’s the fact that I recently realized I’m a woman, but the instant laundry list of things the singer hates about his face, followed by an acknowledgment that to “be a human being is to be a total mess” was a sentiment I really needed to hear. The catch of the song is pretty good too. Narcissist Cookbook keeps bringing the acoustic chords and the catchy hooks, and they keep working out. It’s a direct but gentle entry into the album and welcomes the listener in.

“GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE” is an anthem for everyone who’s struggling to get out of bed. The heavier chords and electric guitar backings come in thick, and the second-person perspective is a welcome twist on NC’s usual spoken word pieces. Maybe it’s because it feels like a message to the audience in addition to it being for himself, and this inclusion feels intentional. The message is so universal, that I can’t help but think of the countless others who are struggling alongside me in the world. That invisible solidarity is present here. This is where the name of the album comes from, and Narcissist Cookbook’s message of strength and persistence carries the piece.

The fourth track, “The Simplest Words” probably hits me the hardest out of everything on the album, so I’d be remiss not to mention it. It’s one of the more melodic tracks on the album, bringing in NC’s self-made acapella beats which pull the audience along and keep the rhythm running smoothly through the song. “This is How We Get Better” differentiates itself by not being an exploration, but an excavation, of self-hate. He plainly says, “I hate this body. I am more scared of myself than I am of anyone else.” The simple truth of these words really hit home for me. But more than that, I love about this work because it does not beg me to interrogate this. By highlighting the fear at the root of this disgust, he points out the harmful and useless nature of self-hate. It is not a celebration of self-deprecation. It acknowledges it for what it is.

The singer doesn’t ask for you to help him. He doesn’t ask you to look inside yourself and really question why you’re listening to this song. He doesn’t demand of you any further questions or answers, simply letting this truth be. In the same year that Bo Burnham’s Inside made waves, I am much happier knowing this album exists in an unpretentious, truthful space, expressing the raw moments of depression and anxiety that many of us face without shaming us or begging our forgiveness or permission or mercy. The Narcissist Cookbook instead reaches out a hand and acknowledges we have more in common than we do different, welcoming a chorus of voices that sing, “This body is built on the ruins of all the people I have ever been. Wise men build their houses on rocks while the rest of us settle for skeletons.”

It is not often that I feel seen in a piece of media right now. However, I feel this sentiment particularly captures the current time of literal and metaphorical transition in my life. I do not know what to do with the last 22 years now that I have discovered some deeper truths about myself. I suppose I keep building. I go back and I patch the faulty walls and the uneven foundation, and I work to make this place somewhere I can live. Skeletons will have to do, I suppose.

The rest of the album is full of great hooks, some thought-provoking spoken word, and the catchy guitar riffs that characterize Narcissist Cookbook’s work. From songs about mycelia hiveminds, to the sentient spaces created by our own collective wandering and characterizing, to the things we ingest and consume, Narcissist Cookbook continues to delight.

The final major song I cannot go without mentioning is “STOPPING A GARDEN HOSE WITH YOUR THUMB.” It is the most explicitly confessional song on the album, detailing NC’s foray into kissing someone while still being in a separate relationship. This entrance to polyamory exposes the truth, “We really do make a point of teaching kids that there is precisely one person to be / One way to live / Straight / Cis / Overworked / And monogamous.” The metaphorical garden hose is the truth. It’s something that inevitably bursts out, getting everything wet and leaving you and the surrounding area a mess. I’d been holding my thumb on a garden hose for twenty-two years. I hope NC, whoever reads this, and whoever listens to this album gets to relieve some of that pressure. I know I feel better having done it, and I am glad there are others out there discovering themselves in similar and different ways, as we all learn to face the terrifying and exciting possibilities of being so much more than what we thought of ourselves.

So, in conclusion: if you’re queer, trans, mentally ill, sad, happy, or just want to hear some folksy, ballad bops, go listen to this album. And thanks to Narcissist Cookbook for the memories and the inspirations.

https://thenarcissistcookbook.bandcamp.com/

[digitalhovel]

Cats 1983: The Musical: The Album is pretty good

So. I just listened to the 1983 official soundtrack to the Broadway musical Cats. And let me tell you, it was pretty good actually.

This will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me, but, alas, despite my BFA in acting, I have seen about ten musicals in my life, none of which were Cats in any form. My only experience with this musical was the incredible review of the musical by Polygon’s Simone de Rochefort, and the awe-inspiring twitter thread by the person who saw the 2019 movie rendition three times in one day. Until now, I kept myself free from any actual Cats content directly entering my eyes or ears.

The official soundtrack isn’t perfect. I read along with the Wikipedia synopsis, so I could understand what was happening, because if I didn’t, I would have no idea who Munkustrap is. I still don’t. But that’s okay. The official album doesn’t include the Pekes and Pollicles song, but that’s also okay, because this musical is about Cats, and a song about dogs is just wrong, right?

So. The music.

The instrumentals are neat, but I have no way to critique them. I have no knowledge of music or how it works, or even whether it sounds good (a matter for a different time). Anyways, they’re there, and that’s fine. I would also argue that “The Naming of Cats” isn’t a song; it’s a chant with which to grant your housecat sapience and the ability to kill you if it desires. As such, I recommend keeping it from the ears of your pets at all times, lest they grow too powerful. However, do let them listen to “Jellicle Songs for Jellicle cats,” because that song slaps, and I broke out into dancing while it was playing because Jellicles can and Jellicles do, and that’s the sort of enthusiastic attitude we all need while trapped inside and bored out of our gourds. Finally, the biggest musical number I heard, “The Jellicle Ball,” was a solid series of instrumentations that projected excellent colors on the inside of my brain (no drugs necessary).

Now, the cats of Cats. A review of this music would not be complete without an attempt to parse what has happened and who deserved to be the Jellicle choice.

Munkustrap is clearly showing favoritism to JennyAnyDots, otherwise he wouldn’t have her in mind. While she has done something impressive by orchestrating cockroaches and mice, unless she creates a business reviving dead dinosaurs, she’s not a true venture capitalist. Munkustrap is a mystery; he is the omnipresent narrator, the audience stand-in, the ringleader of the program, even if he doesn’t have Jellicle authority. As such, he is the wizard behind the curtain of the Cats universe, and therefore is incredibly powerful and probably deserves reincarnation, but his services to Cat-kind would be a loss. Also, I imagine he has no physical form, and is just an ethereal voice, so he can probably float to the Heaviside whenever.

I really didn’t expect to be annoyed by Rum Tum Tugger, but I was. I mean, clearly the song is about a cat who is annoying to its owners for always being contradictory. It’s a real thing, so it’s funny. But I cannot listen to this man list things he likes and doesn’t like and then list them in reverse for four minutes without wanting to disown this cat because it’s a jerk. The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious cat, but he’s also like that friend who agrees to go see a movie then starts complaining on the drive there because it got bad reviews and it’s not even a Tarantino for Christ sake so what’s the point.

Edit: upon seeing a visual of Rum Tum Tugger, I get it. He’s still a nasty, horny lad, but I get it. So he’s fine, actually.

Bustopher Jones and MungoJerry and RumpleTeazer sit together in my mind. They’re fun, they’re entertaining. They’re chaotic, and they know what they’re about. But also, they are clearly too materialistic to be jettisoned into the glorious skybox that is the Heaviside layer. Similarly, Mr. Mistofeles does cool parlor tricks, but he probably just laces the other cats’ food with catnip and then lies really good about what he does. Also, he issues seven new kittens into the world using only his hat, which is a crime against the earth and a hostile opposition to TNR programs and everything Regis Philbin stood for.

          So, who deserves to go into that beautiful clown circus in the sky that is the Heaviside layer? Skimbleshanks. He provides a good service to the world and is proud of it. His pride isn’t the self-involved absorption of narcissism, but the healthy self-contentment of seeing and owning the products of one’s labor. However, he can keep that up for a while, and he should. Unionize the cats, Skimbleshanks. I believe in you.

So, the three cats of an appropriate age for recycling are Old Deuteronomy, Grizabella, and Gus. Macavity may be old enough to be reincarnated into a small glowing cube of fur and joy, but he’s a criminal, an adulterer, and a tax evader. We don’t support dirty capitalist criminals here. So, the other three. Gus: an old theatre actor, but probably a racist (this album included the tale of Growltiger, the only song I didn’t finish because it was fucking racist). Old Deuteronomy: Who said he can’t pick himself? What if Deuteronomy looked around, found out everyone else was kind of annoying and self-centered and left them to burn instead of teaching them about life and loss and the meaning of happiness? Finally, Grizabella: enigmatic, tragic, sorrowful.

          About halfway through, I was rooting for Gus. He’s an old, old man, and he deserves a break from life and a chance at being great again. But then his bravado and bragging became an entire musical number, and no one likes the actor who keeps reminding people of that time in college when he played Seymore in Little Shop. Old Deuteronomy clearly has to stick around because he’s the only hope of teaching the other schmucks about life. So, let’s lay it out: Grizabella’s voice is a moving powerhouse. She laments, or praises the fact that she still has the memories of her life. She has lived a full life of experience. Now, that aforementioned twitter thread suggested that she was ignored and deserved to be reinstated with the Jellicles. But, she clearly wants to leave them. She knows what her life has been, and she wishes to see beyond, to see the sun, the moon, the true face of things. She wants access to the test room where all the good assets are held, uncorrupted and perfect. Grizabella is old, frail, and dejected. Is it kinder for them to let her back in? Yes. But even she’s dejected, and instead of trying to make her feel like she matters, the Jellicles give her what she wants: escape from them and their bitter, self-centric dance-routines.

          Grizabella is the most mature of all the cats. She demonstrates acceptance with her life and also with the idea of leaving her memories and her past behind, despite the beauty she once had and all the good times before everything went south for her. As she is absorbed into that godless place beyond space and time, she leaves behind her memories. It’s a tragedy, but she is happy for her new life, and probably to be rid of all the Jellicles, who are largely mean to her and nuisances.

          So, what did I learn? Well I learned that Jellicles can, and Jellicles do. I learned that happiness is the maturity to leave your past behind and accept a new day, and I learned above all else, that cats are not dogs. In general, this album ruled, and it was a good listen for an hour-and-a-half while I twiddled my thumbs and tried to avoid doing other things. One day, I’ll watch the other Cats products, but for now, I’ll let this one float around for a while, until I’m ready to move on and look fondly back on the memory.

[digitalhovel]

The Royal They is a jarring, aggressive punk album, and it rules

           If all you know of me is this blog, you may be surprised by my taste in music, as it’s a far cry from songs about Cats or musicals in general. I have, historically, been an amateur punk and metalhead, and in recent years I’ve taken it upon myself to find better music than what I knew growing up: NOFX and Metallica. Luckily, there’s a lot of better, more relevant stuff out there.

           Today I decided to write about one of my new favorite albums, by a band I have enjoyed since I first heard them. The Royal They’s eponymous album, first released in 2016, has some incredible songs on it and is full of quick, shredding chords and righteous, explosive lyrics. The Royal They is an NYC-based punk band composed of Michelle Hutt on guitar and vocals, Darrell Dumas on guitar, and Rick Martinez on drums.

The album comes out swinging with “Truncheon.” The mixing in this song perfectly sets the album’s tone. It begins softly, the singer’s voice just audible over muted drum hits and single notes strummed out deliberately and methodically, but soon Hutt’s vocals turn to an attack, and the cymbals and heavy chords come crashing in. This is the album’s core ethos, to hit hard and hit fast: “I can’t be vaguer, understated, so I guess I’ll be blunt. / Yeah, I just wanna fucking be done.” There are no minced words and no second chances. It’s an encouraging message that we don’t owe assholes anything. The album is absolutely feminist, dissecting and eviscerating dynamics and relationships based in misogyny and power control. Hutt’s vocals are visceral and paint a picture of people who play at falsehoods to get what they want while expecting the singer to remain silent. So, it’s time to push back, and this opener makes that remarkably clear.

          However, the album isn’t all outright anger and lightning. “Understate” is one of the more enigmatic tracks, having to do with self-acceptance and identity. The chord progression leads the listener along “spiral staircases.” While “some go as they should, some go in circles.” As someone with anxiety, it’s a relatable feeling. The lyrics attempt to transcend the limitations of this struggle: “unweavable are we / the endless few / with something to get through” but end with a fear that “you’ll push me in.” While “Truncheon” is a battering ram, “Understate” is a lockpick. There’s something haunting about the lyrics and their lack of clarity, especially amidst the bluntness of the rest of the album. But this works, because the act of self-discovery is a sensitive one, and this song underlies both the beauty and danger of it when other people can play the devil. Even though “Understate” is a slower song and far less heavy than the other tracks, its tonality in coming to term with the self is gorgeous and effective.

          The album switches back into heavier beats and picks up the pace again with “Laurels” and “Lyric Machine,” both songs that take a critical look at people in positions of power. “Laurels” targets those who have been given unworthy praise, and now they’ve become complacent and ineffective. It expresses a great frustration with stagnation, and it uses a unique metrical structure to emphasize this staggered, strange system. It addresses the subject and forces them to reckon with their place, resting on their laurels. “Lyric Machine,” on the other hand, appears to be a direct criticism of the music industry and people who are obsessed with profits at the expense of artists’ rights and emotions. The song’s lyrics are vicious, asking if the subject is “just predictably lazy?” and if they would “pay me to stay alive on a prayer?” It’s an effective assault on those who offer platitudes, thoughts, and prayers without actually supporting the people they claim to care about. Both songs have catchy hooks and, while they don’t hit as hard as “truncheon,” they’re solid, enjoyable listens.

          CW: Some of the following lyrics mentioned imply circumstances of abuse.

          With songs like these, this album sets itself up as a wicked critique of power structures, in both professional and personal settings. It’s some good punk, with crunchy guitars and solid drumlines that drive the beat through the end of the song. But more than any other song on the album, “Full Metal Black” sets The Royal They apart as something special (it’s also their most well-known song, as it was featured in an episode of Nightvale.) “Full Metal Black” depicts an abusive relationship. Coming right off the tail of “Lyric Machine,” “Full Metal Black” starts with screeching guitars and an immediate look into the speaker’s life, dealing with someone “made of malice and meat, whiskey and shitty TV.” This song has an incredible energy, and in each chorus break Hutt gives her all into the shouted lyrics and the determination that the speaker is stronger than ever. The song isn’t about suffering, it’s about redemption and recompense. The speaker asks, “You gave me bullets for bones, who’d you expect them to break?” These lyrics, are a visceral, deserved celebration for those who must rise from the ashes of something terrible to find life again. It’s a heavy song, but its unrelenting pace carries the weight of the subject matter into screaming crescendos with crashing cymbals and a self-confidence that has brought tears to my eyes more than once. And at its core, it’s a message about using one’s strength to fight back, which is something anyone suffering under a thumb can find release in.

          “The Royal They” (the album) is a little over 30 minutes long, and there’s never a dull moment in there. Every single song is catchy and inspiring in a way that sets your hair on end and gets your blood rushing as you pump your fist straight through the sunroof. The album’s opener makes it clear that the band won’t beat around the bush, and they don’t. They attack the corrupt and the coercive directly, each time with greater ferocity until the album’s finale in “Shinburner,” where all three band members chant together and finish with a final, powerful note. It’s a quick listen, and well worth the invested time. I’ve been listening to them on Spotify while saving up to buy their albums, which are available on bandcamp. Give them a listen, and don’t give up.