Songs and artists that’ve shaped us.
Why I listen to so much rock – and One Direction
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Our columnists discuss the effect music — and the artists who make it — has on them.
Alam Alidina Opinions Editor
17 The ReMarker
Sai Thirunagari Assignments Editor
uring a persuasion seminar for a campaign I was working on last summer, we were asked a question: What would be your “walkout” song? It was supposed to be an icebreaker – so I searched some combination of my head and my Spotify playlist for a song that so aligned with every aspect of my personality that when played to an arena of thousands, they would know it was me next due to walk out on that stage. The only problem was that I could come up with nothing. I hadn’t ever heard a song that could sum up who I was – or even one that had come close. See, in all my time listening to music, I had never associated the songs with myself. Not the classical radio my mom would play on long commutes (in what I think was an attempt to make me smarter), or the haunting Andrea Bocelli and Andrew Lloyd Weber she interspersed it with. Not the pre-curated Spotify playlists I would play when I was up or down, or the “Blank Space” of my brief obsession with Taylor Swift. Not even a whole genre – country – that I’m sure was created for the express purpose of helping people find themselves (if you don’t believe me, go listen to “Three Wooden Crosses”). Music played above and around me in elevators and restaurants and theaters. Sometimes music played at me from computer speakers or car stereos or AirPods. But even during an orchestra performance or a live Broadway musical, I never felt that the music was (or could be) playing for me. That is until an errant Twitter thread led me to Leonard Cohen’s “Bird on a Wire.” Unlike one of Cohen’s more famous songs, like “Hallelujah” or “Suzanne,” there’s not much information on how Cohen conceived “Bird on the Wire.” But listen to it. It’s a bizarre mix of hymn and fever dream, the epitome of what a song can be: vivid, enthralling imagery set to music that brings it to life. The first verse, Like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir, I have tried, in my way, to be free – is iconic, setting up the classic image of the moment before the leap into something new. I remember the first time I heard it. Cohen’s slow croon eked out of a phone speaker, marred by a live band and a raucous crowd. It took a second listen – this time to a calmer studio version – before I fell in love. Admittedly, it’s not a great walkout song. It doesn’t inspire the fervored cheering of, say, Springsteen’s “We Take Care of Our Own.” But “Bird on the Wire” speaks to who, and where, I am right now. I’m a senior on the verge of going to college, feet planted firmly in the present, unsure of what’s to come. I have passions, but no idea how to put them to use – and, more worryingly, I’m afraid they aren’t quite strong enough to give me a sense of direction. “Bird on the Wire” gives voice to those fears. I’d like to think that Cohen – wildly successful, but terrified of losing his touch – experienced many of them himself. And maybe that’s the power of great music: not entertainment, but connection.
Opinions
PHOTO Collin Katz
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March 11, 2021
ne hundred twenty-one thousand four hundred forty-three minutes. Two thousand twenty-four hours. Eighty-four days. That’s how much music I listened to on Spotify last year. Blasting my car’s speakers as I drive down Central Expressway, wearing my headphones as I practice golf and playing my Bluetooth speaker as I sing along to my favorite songs in the shower, I can’t stop. All I know is that I’m obsessed. I’ve listened to 129 entire albums, including the entire discography of Pink Floyd, Eagles, Led Zeppelin, The Clash, Nirvana, James Taylor and…One Direction. That’s right – the early 2010s boy-band pop phenom known as 1D. Spotify says I listened to 20,810 minutes (346 hours, or two weeks) of them in 2020, putting me in the top 0.01% of their listeners – that’s the top 2,400 fans in the world. Rock is still my number one genre, but I can’t deny how much I love listening to 1D. To simultaneously commemorate and taunt my craze, my friends have even gifted me two One Direction t-shirts and two posters (one is on my wall beside a Nirvana wall-hanging, and I’m contemplating taking the other unopened one to my college dorm next year). Although I can’t escape my friends’ constant banter about my 1D obsession, I doubt I’ll ever lose my admiration for the boy band. Hear me out. I concede their songs sound similar, their lyrics are simple and their music is overproduced. But it’s their voices. In a time when more and more pop and hip-hop artists rely on autotune to compensate for their lack of vibrato and limited vocal range, One Direction’s sheer singing talent stands out to me. They’re outstanding vocalists – no special effects needed. It’s endlessly entertaining to pay attention to a 1D song and pick apart the boys’ voices in each verse and chorus – Niall has a soft, gentler voice, Louis stands out as the most soothing and highly-pitched, Zayn is deepest but can hit high notes with his three-octave vocal range, Harry usually sings the chorus and has a rich, distinctive tone and Liam sounds American even though he speaks with a British accent. Although they collaborated with outside writers to produce their One Direction songs, they’re extremely gifted artists even on their own. Their solo albums offer new musical directions for all of the boys that make me excited to see what styles (pun intended) they explore next. Liam feeds off mainstream pop and hip-hop in LP1 to add to his growing catalog of upbeat dance songs. In Harry Styles and Fine Line, Harry draws on rock and psychedelic pop to offer a diverse array of songs. Zayn boldly opens himself up through pop and R&B in Mind of Mine and expresses his unfiltered frustration, sadness and confusion in Icarus Falls and Nobody Is Listening. Louis allows his vulnerability to show through with his endearing British accent and meaningful lyrics about romance and past struggles in Walls. And you can hear elements of Eagles and Fleetwood Mac in Niall’s folk-, country- and rock-influenced Flicker and poppy Heartbreak Weather. But nothing compares to their magic as a single band. Their upbeat rhythms, catchy lyrics and combined vocal prowess make nearly every 1D song feel like a pulsating ball of energy that’ll make you sing along and dance on your feet. There’s such a variety of sentiments in their songs: the throbbing “Stockholm Syndrome,” comforting “Don’t Forget Where You Belong,” mournful “If I Could Fly,” inspiringly defiant “They Don’t Know About Us,” ever victorious “Steal My Girl,” hopeful “You & I,” energizing “Drag Me Down” and – my favorite – soothing “Night Changes.” Especially in this turbulent past year, I can always turn to One Direction to add more positivity to my life – and so can you. For my generation, 1D takes us back to the carefree days of Lower and Middle School, hearing their poppy, catchy songs overplayed on the radio. Other bands and genres – especially Pink Floyd and Nirvana – often tackle serious themes in their music, using more intense instruments and profound lyrics to produce meaningful social commentaries and critiques. While I absolutely appreciate those songs and listen to them frequently, One Direction offers a chance to lighten up with a youthfully pure and benign outlook on the world. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying they’re better than my favorite rock bands – but there’s something so uplifting about One Direction that I’ve never found anywhere else. When I hear the gentle acoustic guitar speed up and allow bittersweet romantic passion to flood through the quintet’s voices in the angelic chorus at the end of “Story of My Life,” I experience an overwhelming surge of adrenaline that makes my chest swell like I’m soaring and washes a refreshing wave of unbridled bliss over me that no other artist can replicate. And that’s what makes 1D beautiful.
The uncanny beauty of ‘Bird on the Wire’
It’s not just celebrities – we’re all in the spotlight
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he other day my favorite country artist made a terrible mistake. Morgan Wallen, whose songs I sing in the shower (I know I’m not the only one) and listen to every morning on the way to school, was caught on video using an inappropriate racial slur. Soon after, the incident was all over social media, his mistake broadcast out into the public arena for all to see. Just a few short weeks after releasing “Dangerous: the Double Album” which broke the all-time record for highest single-week streams for a country album, Wallen was suspended from his label, pulled from radio stations across the country and declared ineligible for the 2021 Academy of Country Music Awards. Just like that, he was canceled. Interestingly, the video was filmed by one of Wallen’s neighbors, someone who thought he’d catch his drunk celebrity neighbor doing something he’d regret. So, as a result, even on his own property, within the privacy of his home, Morgan was in the spotlight. Now the spotlight can provide wonderful benefits for those it shines down upon. It can bring massive popularity, celebrity, influence and fandom, but at what cost? As I was thinking this over in the wake of Wallen’s fall from grace, I brought it up with my journalism adviser, Mr. Westbrook, who everyone calls Ray. We talked about the ridiculously high expectations placed on superstars by the media and their fans. Then Ray brought up Justin Bieber and his song “Lonely” (yes, I was just as surprised as you are that Ray’s a Belieber). I’d heard the song before but went home and
started listening to it on repeat. The more I listened, the more I was struck by the raw emotion and longing in Justin’s voice, his call for someone – anyone – to listen. Everybody knows my name now, but somethin’ ‘bout it still feels strange – like lookin’ in a mirror, tryna steady yourself and seein’ somebody else. Bieber was only 14 when he signed with his first label, 16 when he released his first studio album. He was a teenage superstar, adored by millions. But despite – or perhaps because of – all his early success, he wasn’t fulfilled. He has since gone on record with his struggles with depression and loneliness. Justin “had everything, but no one [was] listening.” He had people “criticiz[ing] the things [he] did as an idiot kid.” The spotlight shone brightly upon both Wallen and Bieber, and it held them to an impossible standard. But what about everyday people – those who aren’t global icons? Does the spotlight shine on us? I think so. Our audience may not be the entire world, but our parents, teachers, coaches and friends are watching. The expectations, held by others and even ourselves, especially at a high-achieving school such as St. Mark’s, can sometimes feel just like the spotlight Wallen, Bieber and other stars experience. In my own life, I’ve found that real relationships are the key to surviving the pressures and the spotlight. The close friends I can share anything with, the ones I can call when I hit rock bottom, the ones who will drop everything if I need them to – those are the friends I want to surround myself with so I can survive when the spotlight shines bright.
Robert Pou Editor in Chief
