The new issue of RVA Magazine (#28, to be exact) is out now, and in addition to a truly a gorgeous pink cover, it sports an article I wrote about Dazeases, one of the most exciting new artists to emerge from Richmond’s music scene in recent memory. Working on this was a genuinely inspiring experience. Dazeases has a true artist’s creative drive, and her compass is guided by a powerful sense of self-determination, whether you’re looking at her inventive approach to songcraft or her singular performance style. (Case in point: Her performance this Friday will include two venues and a 5-minute guided walk in between. How cool is that?)
I owe Dazeases my thanks, both for the inspiration she radiates and for all her help with the article, and I hope you’ll take the time to get to know her a little better by picking up a copy of the magazine or by reading online here.
Are you in the market for some fact-acting self-knowledge and/or spiritual fulfillment? Might I suggest one line each from these three newish songs?
JR JR — “Same Dark Places”
One-Line Enlightenment: “I know everybody goes to the same dark places”
It’s easy to feel alone and isolated when you’re suffering in some way, but there’s a really good chance that people — maybe even people you know — have gone through or are currently going through something similar. “Same Dark Places,” which was accompanied by a touching message about the song’s origins, does a wonderful job of shining a bright, compassionate light on those shadowy emotional spaces.
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Future Islands — “Through The Roses”
One-Line Enlightenment: “It’s not easy just being human”
Speaking of compassion, when you approach interpersonal communication with a basic level of empathy — “This person I’m talking to has the same basic wants and needs as me and could be dealing with difficulties that aren’t immediately apparent, etc.” — it’s amazing how much easier it is to defuse charged situations and find positive outcomes. This line from the new Future Islands album reminds me of this in such a simple and powerful way. The video above ain’t great, but the message comes through loud and clear.
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Eric Slick — “You Are Not Your Mind”
One-Line Enlightenment: “You are not your mind”
I often fall into the trap of assuming there’s a way to think my way out of every situation. I also tend to prioritize my inner experience when I’m feeling less than good about what’s going on on the outside, whether that’s the clothes I’m wearing or my inability to force myself to exhibit extroversion when it counts. And while the mind can certainly act as a refuge, I love the idea that there’s some other self that’s even more basic — something that’s not so readily accessible or easily tinkered with. I’ve read that meditation was a big part of the inspiration behind Eric Slick’s new Palisades album, so I’m sure he has a more precise idea of what this lyric is getting at, but just hearing it gives me this tremendous sense of relief, like walking away from an elaborate array of spinning plates.
To bring things full circle, here’s a video of Eric Slick speaking very articulately about the need for open discussion of mental health.
I gave it a headphones-in listen last night while grilling and damn near had an out-of-body experience when I got to the chorus of “Patient Zero,” which reads:
Life is good
You look around and think I’m in the right neighborhood
But honey you just moved in
Life is grand
And wouldn’t you like to have it go as planned
What a thing to have sung to you while standing in the backyard of your new home on a windy night, watching clouds zoom past the moon. That place she’s describing — the pocket of time before life grabs hold of the course you’ve plotted and adds twists and turns to it — that’s exactly where my family is right now.
And that ominous subtext… I feel that, too. This may sound strange, but it reminds me of carbon dating and how each of us carries around tiny amounts (hopefully) of radioactivity in the form of radiocarbon. You stop exchanging it with the environment when you die, and the degree of decay is what tells scientists when you lived, but part of being alive is having this weird, low-level hum going on inside you at all times. I feel like the chorus of “Patient Zero” hums that way, only instead of radioactivity, it’s putting off the trace amount of doubt that even an optimist can’t escape. Being subject to fate can be frustrating, especially when it comes to mortgages, but it’s the cost of still being alive.
You Hear That 