"Someway baby its part of me apart from me."
Holocene, off Bon Iver's self titled album, explores, like most of their other songs, heartache through a stream of abstract lyrics that, on first listen, seem to be connected only vaguely by parallel themes of desperation and depression. And though I've grown quite fond of Justin Vernon's avant-garde lyricism, this relatively plain opening line has stuck with me. To give context on how 'plain' and 'simple' this line appears to be, one must only look further in the same song to find lines like:
"Christmas night, it clutched the light, the hallow bright
Above my brother, I and tangled spines"
As beautifully crafted as these words may be, I would find the argument of their simplicity unfounded. I would go as far as to say some of their grace comes from their unorthodox arrangement. By incorporating purposeful vagueness, I believe Vernon grants his audience permission to craft and mold meaning from his songs free from initial intent. Because of Vernon's unconventional writing style, I have come to question every word's significance, even those that at first seem so straightforward. So, though the 'part' of him that seems to be 'apart' from him presumably references cliché tropes of his stolen and broken heart, I've found that line to mean much more. I've listened to Holocene so many times that providing an estimate would be both inaccurate and embarrassing, but every one of those times, that opening statement has sparked something in me; it has stirred passions and lit flames inside of me. It has helped me reflect upon the ways in which music has intertwined itself into my life; how its become a part of me apart from me.
When I was in fourth grade, my family would tease me about my nasal singing-style so I joined a chorus that, over the next 9 years, would shape me into the vocalist I am today. To say that I always had a positive view of my experience there would be a disservice to myself, but I can't deny the positive outcomes. I'm undoubtedly a better singer, I got to travel the world, I made some of the best friends Ive ever had, and I developed what can be described as the beginning of a work ethic all because of it. And like that, music became a part of me; ingrained into the fabric of who I am. I didn't just consume music, I produced it; a difference that has proven monumental in the course of my life.
In efforts to explore and etch out my own niche in the music scene, several friends and I banded together. It started out small. My friend Lucas would sometimes bring his guitar to school and we would jam outside, and occasionally inside, of the classroom. But soon, our love for music caught on and our best friend Stefan joined in. Not long after, two of our classmates who we had not been quite close with, Dimitri and Jax, were brought into the group. And before any of us realized what had happened, we were in a band. Sea Den. We practiced regularly; developing our sound and forming a bond that got stronger with every song we played. No matter what had happened that day or week, we knew that the rest of Sea Den and the music we made would be there to keep us strong. They were the first ones to know I got into college and I wouldn't have had it any other way. I still remember that moment quite clearly. I walked back from my car to Dimitri's house, knocked on the door, and told them calmly what had happened. Immediately, Stefan bear-hugged me and lifted me off the ground, and keep in mind, I'm not a small guy. But we didn't just practice in some garage like other high school bands, we got things done. We got to play at The Marlins' Stadium, open for Billboard topping artists, and undoubtedly best of all, we produced, recorded, mixed, mastered, and distributed our own original album. Hours upon hours of work went into each song, but if I were being honest, it didn't feel like work when I was around my bandmates. And in the end, we had made something we were all proud of, but looking back now, if we hadn't finished one song I would still be just as happy I got to spend that much time with my best friends. But high school doesn't last forever, and once it did come to an end, we went our separate ways, each carrying what we had learned from our time together, cherishing those lessons and the friendships that accompanied them.
I found myself in college without an outlet for musical expression. I'd hole myself up in my room and strum my acoustic guitar while singing nonsense lyrics until my fingers bled. But once I started writing my music down, I began to hone my song writing style. Where Sea Den had primarily been an alternative rock group, my solo outing had developed into something more closely resembling indie folk. The instrumentation was, and still is, more rudimentary, but the lyrics had become far more personal. For the first time, I fully allowed myself to delve into feelings I hadn't wanted to acknowledge and mined them for artistic growth. My songs had become truer and, for all intents and purposes, more a part of me. I'd place some facet of my being into every song I wrote, and though at times those aspects of me were difficult to spot, I always knew they were there even if no-one else did. I've found it quite difficult to share some songs for the reason that it feels as though I am sharing some secret that I haven't had the courage to disclose. But I guess music has given me that courage. Eventually I found a group that took me in and helped me harness my abilities further: The Underground Collective. Being surrounded by such talented poets and performers who held nothing back inspired me to do the same. And so, that's what I've been doing. That's where I'm at right now. Still putting myself into every song, still fighting the pain that comes with self-acknowledgement, and still accepting the pain as a teacher. Maybe one day there won't be anymore of me to put in songs, but I think I'll always have just enough. Somewhere down the line, I hope to look back, play the songs I've written, and realize that it was all so magnificent.
So, thank you Miami Children's Chorus. Thank you Lucas. Thank you Stefan. Thank you Dimitri. Thank you Jax. Thank you Underground Collective. And thank you Bon Iver. For showing me that music is a part of me apart from me.
"...and I can see for miles, and miles, and miles, and miles."
