Dear Rocka readers,
Writing to you on my birthday with a playlist that’s been cooking for three years now (with some new additions). It is officially spring time again, and I’m willing this into its full existence by putting away all of my winter clothes.
A few weeks ago, I published an article and a podcast episode about joe p, an indie artist I like a whole lot. He reminds me of Briston Maroney so so much, and I got hooked on “Don’t Wanna Love U,” which was released in October of last year. I found his manager online and sent over the pieces of coverage, mostly because since I work as a publicist I’m always wishing my outlets would send me links when they post. I didn’t expect much from it, and it can sometimes feel weird to share your work with the people you wrote about, but he replied with some kind words and a ticket to see joe in Ann Arbor the following week.
So there I was, well on my way to developing a sinus infection, nursing a singular beer and stepping outside to take cough breaks every ten minutes. The hour before, I ate bao buns alone in my car in a parking garage and got my daith piercing changed by a man who had more metal on/in his head than skin.
There is no better feeling than thinking you can hear talent and then that immediately being affirmed, especially live and especially in the day and age of TikTok. As soon as he came out on stage, I felt like I was a predatory industry dude in a terminally tight white tee shirt foaming at the mouth.
This kid’s gonna be a star!!
But he is. It’s so clear. His stage presence is borderline awkward — endearing without pretending that he doesn’t know he’s talented. I loved the show, and I loved watching all the people around me who knew his small discography like they had written it themselves. He already is a success, but it’s just up from here.
I forgot my earplugs for this show because lately I’ve been wearing them when I get overstimulated throughout the day. But in a way, I felt like I was giving up some fraction of my hearing for a good cause. As though it was an even exchange: the artist giving me this experience and in return, they get a little bit of my hearing.
In my other worlds of writing, I’ve received a lot of feedback on my work lately. Whether its faculty members at my school telling me I’m the only reporter whose work they look forward to in the paper or graduate students hitting on me via Outlook, I seem to be in a season of being noticed. This is strange since by nature, I am a total recluse. Only in the past year have I felt like a social person, and even now, I have to have multiple hours alone a day in order to function.
All writers just want you to read their work, and yet when people do, my eye begins to twitch. I’d imagine its the same for a lot of artists, and I’m not sure if that feeling ever fades. There’s a lot of ego involved in creating, and yet in order to have a mildly healthy relationship with your work, you have to disconnect from it to some degree. When people read and reach out to me, I am beyond honored. It just also happens to make me ill.
Fulfillment doesn’t come from external validation, and I know that’s not why I create. It’s just an impulse. If I hear a good song, I want to write about it. If someone says something kind to me, I’m going to write about it. If my boyfriend tells me he secretly likes gushers, that’s getting jotted down. When I get wigged out that people are paying attention to me, I just have to remember that it’s a simple equation. An equation I’ve practiced my whole life, and one that I am so grateful to know. If I didn’t have this outlet, there’s no doubt in my mind I’d be fully institutionalized with a few felonies under my belt.
My takeaway this month — since these newsletters are just glorified diary entries — is to pay attention to your impulses. Don’t always act on them, but be aware of what you notice. Often, others notice it too. They just might not have the means of articulating that in the way you do.
This month’s playlist is called “jam-stained fingers” and it features songs that feel like spring is at the door but winter has it deadbolted. I’ve got some Cut Worms, some Wilco, and some Shins. I started the first variation of this playlist when I was 19 and blonde. I made jam in my free time. These songs feel like that, a genesis of a new season or era. The spotlight track is a classic, “The Bottom of It” by Fruit Bats. I love this song dearly, and I think it captures what it feels like to have a lot of things sorted out in life. That peace is still haunted by the ceaseless uncertainty that is being alive, but we’re gonna sing right through that.
Overjoyed that you've gotten to the flat spot
In the field and you're starting to feel
That it's hearkening to something heartening
Rocka out,
Ally