no. 45 — Willow by Sloppy Jane
When I first downloaded Willow and began listening to it, I knew I wasn’t ready yet. I first heard Sloppy Jane because their song “Bark Like A God” was on a Halloween playlist on spotify, and I was absolutely obsessed with it. But that song taken out of context of the whole album is an entirely different experience than what Willow provides. When I started the first track that day after buying the album, I knew it wasn’t the right time for me to listen and love it yet. Cut to a few months later, my grandfather just died from covid, I’m stressed with my corporate job, and my house is a mess. I put this album on, listened to it start to finish, and then played it again. And then again. It was the only thing I could listen to. It was the right time.
I’m not saying you have to be in a state of desperation to enjoy Sloppy Jane, because I absolutely don’t think that’s true. I’m saying that my own emotional state allowed me to tap into the story[1] Willow tells in a way I wasn’t able to before. Before all that shit happened, when I listened all I heard was chaos. Now, I listen and yeah, it’s chaos, but it’s also the only music that directly reflected my brain in that time of stress. Now, even when I’m in a great mood, I can listen to these songs and I feel a part of me unwind with recognition. That stress and anxiety that’s always in the back of my head is seen in these songs, and it stays away for a little longer[2].
I also gotta say that the front person, Haley Dahl, is a huge reason why I fell in love with the band so quickly. I was reading articles about her, and she mentions in an interview with atwood magazine that she makes music for the people who pour over the lyrics and obsess over every connection they can make with it. Immediately, I knew that meant me. I dive into obsessions, letting them consume me completely, and here was an artist who created art specifically for that purpose. As I kept researching her, I read her story about finding a coat on the sidewalk and vowing to wear it until it disintegrated off her body. She wore it every day for a year without washing it. I cannot even put into words how fucking cool I think that level of commitment is. Even when it got physically uncomfortable for her, she stuck by her promise to herself. I have never done something with that amount of conviction before. I’m in actual awe of her ability to do that.
I follow Dahl on her Patreon, and recently submitted a question for her advice column. It was a long-winded and convoluted essay about the way I obsess over things and use it as an excuse to punish myself for not meeting my own standards. I felt that she, someone with more conviction in her pinky toe than I have in my whole body, might be the right person to ask. And I was right. She answered me with such kindness and wisdom, despite only being a year older than me. Her response to my tendency to worship celebrities made me cry. She said, “We want to be seen and we want to be loved and that’s why we make music and paint and write, and that’s why you do it too, and we’re the same.” I think that’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to hear. My quest for attention from various celebrities is rooted in wanting to be their peer. I want to be the same as them because I have put them on this pedestal of greatness and worthiness that I aim to achieve, but by comparing myself to this false level of perfection, I automatically discount anything good about myself, because it’s never enough[3].
It’s a lovely case of serendipity that the last post of this project centers around closing the book on my obsession with celebrities, especially because this entire project started as an attempt to get my favorite artists to notice me[4]. This morning, I was listening to an episode of Say More, a podcast by two poets I admire. They spoke about how oversharing on social media is something they do when they’re looking for attention and validation because they’re unable to get it from their own lives. They said it’s something they do more of when they’re unwell. I actually laughed out loud when I heard that, because it’s true. The last six months of my life have been marked by a strange hysteria of needing external validation. I know I’m still in the throughs of seeking that validation from anyone who isn’t myself, but I also know I’m trying much harder to pull myself away from that. I know that the reason I over share is because I’m searching for that confirmation that comes from others. Likes and views can feel like support at times, but ultimately, I’ve just made it become another way to measure my self-worth, and that isn’t helpful at all. Also, yes I’m aware that I’m still oversharing on the internet by talking about the psychological reasoning behind my tendency to overshare, but frankly whatever. Until I’m at a place where I’m comfortable enough in my own consciousness, my social media will be a front row seat to my own weird psychoanalysis. That’s ok with me for now.
Willow by Sloppy Jane is the most recent album that has contributed to my sense of self, which is why it’s the last one I’ll write about. I listen to it nearly every day (and you should too). I lament the fact that I never got to see them perform live, because I know their tour was full of the most incredible performances I could imagine, including a 12-piece band, blue glitter vomit, and the kind of audience participation/interactions that both get you out of your insecurities and makes you hyper aware of your own skin. There’s a new album in the works, one that I believe was recorded almost entirely in a cave. Being able to watch the process on Patreon is deeply confounding and inspiring. So often I see the projects of artists I admire as proof that I will never be as good or cool as they are, and while I still think that’s true to some extent, being able to see Dahl’s progress and her transparency regarding each step is actively helping me to urge myself forwards.
I don’t know what I plan on doing now that this particular project is over. I set out to write about 45 albums, one album a day, every day, 500 words or less. I didn’t really do that. It took me 3 months to write about all 45, and towards the end the posts were more like 1,000 words than 500, but I finished what I meant to do. There are some albums I had planned on writing about but never did. Maybe I’ll do a runners-up category, or maybe I’ll do specific songs that made me who I am next. Regardless, writing this much and this consistently has expanded my sense of trust in myself. I’ve really enjoyed doing this, especially when it sparks conversations with people about what I write. Thank you to everyone who engaged with these posts. It’s been a pleasure.
[1] And I sure do fucking love a narrative album!! This post doesn’t even delve into the story of Willow, but damn is it cool.
[2] Recently I was in a SHIT mood and I played this album way too loudly while cooking dinner, and by the time it was over I felt fucking fantastic. This album saves lives.
[3] To read more of her absolutely brilliant response to my validation-seeking panic, subscribe to her Patreon.
[4] It actually kind of worked, though not in the way I was aiming.
