Mitski’s latest novelty is her eighth studio album, Nothing’s About to Happen to Me, that covers an alternative genre intertwined into a collecti on of eleven songs. They skillfully master the art of allowing you to rip open the lyrics, climb inside the song, and walk through your own self made projections of montaged scenes that gush into your mind when it infiltrates the ears. The loose lines leave you to gulp down the awe inspiring feeling that crawls over your skin and a wonderstruck afterglow formed by the journey that envelopes the five stages of grief. Your heart feels as though it can burst from the sudden bam on it that unlocks the emotions of love, heartache and longing through this poetic, structural, and unforgettable storytelling. A dialogue of her history, that I will be sharing my interpretation of and what I visualize in two of my favorite songs.
First and foremost, “I’ll Change for You” is a track that is fascinating to me because it contains a peaceful, nostalgic melody that clicks into place with the dimmer meaning. To me, it represents the gut wrenching exposure of self sabotage you quietly twist yourself into when you stubbornly insist that you can bring the love someone once sheltered you with back from the dead by morphing yourself into their preferences. But in the eyes of your present self that is going down memory lane, it’s a pitiful sight to see the amateur living in this delusion. Dream wrecked with a brain half asleep. You realize no amount of dancing shadows cast upon the grounds of bars swarming with reckless intimacy can reverse their final bow in your life. If we unwrapped the people in there like the cigars resting slanted in between their index and middle finger, you would find they are empty shells with a name disintegrating. If you unmask their laughter wobbling through the clinks of cups toasting to this so-called living, their mouths reek of substance used for the purpose of forgetting and to continue their cycle of denial. But that temporary company has an expiration date attached to it that announces the closure of diversion. You’ll find it’s like a rope that grips your wrists and ribs and pulls you backwards in time as Mitski explores the mislabeling of hope for true love, “like a kid waiting for my ride.” A childhood scene, patiently and painfully convincing yourself that they’re coming and that it’s all okay.That is until you’re waiting for the punchline of their disappearance. You feel lost without the shape of their face you warped every future day and dreams into. They’re the vibrant center in between the dark vacancy of your thoughts, overruling any other existence as you rely on them, not knowing you must learn to become your own safety net to go beyond. It is like an infantilized love as you wait for that certain someone’s hand to pick up the silver spoon and bring it to your lips to feed you and bring satisfaction. You just want to be their best plan, because how can you let go of someone that possesses so much of your time, memories, and pieces of yourself? If they leave would it be considered stolen and wasted? So next time, it begs us to ask ourselves, is there reciprocation, or is there only something because you love them or they love you for what once was?
Furthermore, the song “In a Lake” navigates the story of leaving behind a small town for the city in search of the untasted feeling of being yourself as the song gradually amplifies to show the intensity of emotions it brings when you find it. In the miniature world of a town, there is only so far you can keep running before you start repeating the same sidewalks over and over, “but in a lake you can backstroke forever.” The talebearers are too close, not enough shadows around to relate to, your mistakes linger in each corner store and on clothes, new experiences feel like past lives repeating like old coins that have lost their value, and each step you take forcefully flares particles of regret into your face. Instead of chastising your inner self that reaches for more, in this dimension, you let the engine of your heart guide you to the raw and glimmering unknown space of a city. You begin to crave the glamorous slice of creation of a new life within the transience of youth. Off the grid you can carpe diem every day and stop letting the opportunities slip away that stretch through the endless miles of twinkling towers with rows of windows that hold dreams under construction. Both the murk and halos of light are acceptable, whenever and wherever, without either being permanently stamped into your character because “in a big city, you can start over.” The stress flows away and you are converted to a cleaner place where you can finally exhale the dust swirling inside your lungs and bloodstream as the freedom and privacy of the public space unleashes your natural human messiness without unwanted surveillance.
It’s one of those albums that drowns out the public sphere and permits you to wander off into each phrase. Whether it’s the monstrosity of instruments or soft notes, it all beautifully captures the manic scribbles of the mind and paths we take from signs pointing in wrong directions from a healed perspective. I highly recommend you give this album a chance and listen to it once to discover the voice in Mitski’s songwriting and singing. (P.S. The Strokes just recently announced the release of an upcoming album! They’re a band I 100% advise listening to if you don’t love them already.)
