Misery Loves An Audience

I was listening to a They Might Be Giants podcast on the way home yesterday and it contained a song that is catchy, and at the same time, a little awful. If you are a fan of TMBG, you will know this is not uncommon.

Aside: People whose opinions I respect have subtly poo-pooed TMBG for years, declaring them “only OK.” I used to think, “There must be something I’m not seeing that makes them less than great, because I think they're great. But maybe they’re not.”

Then on the train I thought, "Hey, you know what people whose opinions I respect? Screw you! I don’t know what your problem is, but this is great stuff. It speaks to me, and it’s inventive, fun, and thought-provoking, which is just about the most I want from art.”

Return: In this song, Renew My Subscription, John Linnell sings a song about (among other things) taking medication for psychosis. Many first-person TMBG songs are not necessarily autobiographical. But as I listened to the lyrics I realized: If this is not rooted in something personal, then the guy has done hella research. And really, it’s probably just personal.

They go:

I saw the thing about the heartsick shut-in
thought that I should cut in
and tell you ‘bout how
it woke me from a lifelong daydream
while I’ve been aging
you wrote it all down
though I recognized the words when I read them
I know I never said them
to people out loud

One, this is about aging. Two, this is about self-recognition and expression. Three, I didn’t write down the psychosis part of this song. Download the podcast through iTunes to hear for yourself, or you can follow the somewhat complicated procedure through their site at TMBG.com. Or you could buy their Venue Songs album; the song is there too.

I started thinking about TMBG’s catalog, and realized that a lot of their songs, a whole lot of their songs, are about being alienated, confused, or mentally unwell. Even when they’re obviously talking about someone else (Meet James Ensor, Metal Detector) that person is still not your role model. Regardless of subject, their interest is in unwell people.

The music is fun. The lyrics are clever. And these guys did a children’s album, and they’ve got great senses of humor, and amid all of this, you can easily get caught in a life size smoke screen around the melancholy and disconnection.

TMBG’s first couple of albums were more nakedly unsettled, but it seems like they lived some life, and went through a period of trying different things. I recently heard on another podcast that they were returning to playing older songs on tours, songs they hadn’t played live in 10 years. Renew My Subscription reminds me that they may be returning to the cleverly crafted expressions of alienation and perhaps songs about genuine insanity from their early days.

Furthermore: I began to put that together with some other artists/writers/musicians whose work I’ve recently plumbed deeply enough to realize that even though their output is fun, they’ve got a layer of sorrow/anxiety/unrest behind it.

I’ve always worked hard at concealing my misery in creative ventures -– including this blog. No one wants to hear about how depressed I’ve been, I think. That shit’s depressing. And even the people who want to be kind instead of disparaging or noncommittal, few are helpful when they try. Some people’s help just hurts more. So keep that away from the light, right? Deal with it solo and just give them what they want to see.

But listening to my favorite band on the train I discovered: The art needs to be miserable if you’re miserable. If misery is the truth you feel, then you have to put that in there. Trying to avoid it makes bad art. More often, avoiding it means you don’t do anything at all.