spring breaks loose, the time is near… we are celebrating taylor’s GRAMMYs album of year nomination with this new taylor swift evermore album collection.
here’s a flashback in a film reel to ONE YEAR ago when our folklorian fam took home album of the year at the GRAMMYs! ✨ this is us trying to pretend it hasn’t been that long
What happened at the Grammys comes as no surprise to me.
Lemonade is an album that celebrates black culture and women, so what did you expect? Did you really believe that they could give the most important award of the night to an album that empowers African American culture, that celebrates the woman, expecially the black woman?
Lemonade didn’t win but this as nothing to do with music.
The society is still refusing to recognize the talent and the genius when it doesn’t come from white people and for some strange reasons it just can’t give full credits to people who deserve them.
But at the end of the day, is that award really important? is it really that essential? I think not, and you know why?
Lemonade made people embrace their own culture, beauty and pain.
It showed depression, love, anger, apathy, joy all at the same time.
It gave a voice to those who couldn’t speak.
It gave courage to people to stand up for themselves.
It showed images in which people could reflect themselves and feel empowered.
So if they want to snub all of this greatness, there’s nothing we can do but keep on pushing, helping and supporting Beyoncé to fight the system and make the world a better place!
Album of the Year: Lingua Ignota - Sinner Get Ready
I knew this was going to be a challenging album to write about (as it’s already a challenging enough album to listen to), and thanks to the additional context of the album’s creation, environment, and inspiration recently provided by Kristen Hayter, that gargantuan challenge has only grown. But as inactive as I have been on this blog, I have known that I wanted to write about this album ever since it came out and immediately grabbed my ears and declared itself the year’s best by a mile, so here goes.
I write long pieces. Even when I say I’ll try to keep it short. But I’m not deluding myself on this one; this is going to be long.
As strong as the urge is to “focus on the music”, there is no way to adequately or responsibly address this album without the context surrounding it, and much of that context is extremely harrowing. I will be discussing the things that happened that Hayter divulged in her relationship with Alexis Marshall of the band Daughters, and while I will avoid being intentionally gratuitous, the discussion comes with the same content warnings she provided: sexual assault, rape, suicide, mental and emotional abuse, and sexual abuse.
Lingua Ignota has deservedly garnered tremendous praise throughout the segments of the music world that have become attentive to Hayter’s work, and the praise from the metal world is but a fraction of it. I discovered her through her collaboration with The Body on the best tracks from their LP I Have Fought Against It, But I Can’t Any Longer., shortly after the release of Lingua’s All Bitches Die. But it was of course with 2019’s Caligula that Lingua Ignota’s gripping “survivor anthems” really broke through to a larger captive audience, and again, deservedly so. To call “compelling” the 66 minutes of juxtaposition between angelic, soaring classical vocals and shuddering vengeful screams of agony, gorgeous neoclassical arrangements and harsh industrial noise, evocative, liturgical poetry and utterly unrepentant devilish incantations, violent curses, and death wishes that Caligula offers would be a gross understatement. With it, Hayter expanded on an already-solid foundation of uniquely and honestly petrifying lyricism and a similarly unique sonic pallet that set her far apart from even her closest contemporaries (if there even are any). And yet, Sinner Get Ready is even better.
For as much praise as I gave Caligula (and it was honest praise), I felt like I wasn’t really connecting to it at the level that I felt like I could or should or that the album deserved, possibly also based on how much I saw it clearly meant to people for whom its messages hit closer to home. As my blog’s name implies, I’m a boy, and because of that I’ve been dealt a luckier hand in terms of being more likely to go through life without facing sexual assault or fearing it, and I have indeed fortunately never found myself in danger or sexual assault (not saying that men don’t face sexual assault or that sexual assault against men isn’t important, it’s just not as much and often not as physically violent). I even wondered on and off how much of the critical acclaim Caligula received might have been based on some writers’ feelings of obligation due to the grim honesty of the subject matter. Honestly, I think there probably is some element of obligation to it, but ultimately I don’t think it’s important, it’s unprovable, likely negligible, and ultimately not worth worrying about for an album certainly deserving in significant part because of the harsh truths it so boldly presents. I’ve never got the sense that Hayter is manipulatively pimping her trauma for a cynical artistic cash grab or anything, even if I didn’t connect as deeply to it on Caligula as others.
Sinner Get Ready, on the other hand, clicked immediately. Not only that, I gained a greater appreciation for Caligula through it, and this is after I had expected less of the follow-up to Caligula for some reason(s). The title being taken from a line from the title track of All Bitches Die had me wondering if it was going to be a handful of reworked demos or something, plus Hayter’s stating that it would be calmer and not as industrially driven as her past works (which I interpreted as choosing to fight with one hand tied behind the back), and it seeming to come so soon after Caligula had me not expecting as much of Sinner Get Ready. I was so happy to be proven wrong though. “Happy” may not find a place for much else in this review though. Unlike Caligula, the lyrical focus of Sinner Get Ready was much more tangible and close-to-home for me; Hayter’s dialogues with and challenging of belief in God and her experience with the sickness of organized religion came after a culmination of my own very long process of walking away from Christianity. While Hayter has a hard time describing her own complex position on faith and God and hasn’t fully ruled out belief, her album does not shy away from harsh critique and conversations far more honest and biting than the thoughtless, rehearsed bullshit praise-Jesus prayers of most pastors.
Still astounding to me is how incredible these more “stripped back” instrumentals are. I thought Hayter restricting herself from her harrowing screaming vocals (with the exception of one song) and industrial noise would be her holding herself back; instead, Hayter and her producers take the more traditional sonic palette of Appalachian folk instrumentation and Cathedral-filling pipe organ, choirs, and piano and twist it all into a quite thematically fitting thing to behold. I suppose I should get past the preamble and start getting into the finer details of the album, which I will do song-by-song for the sake of organization. I’ll still have plenty to say afterwards, and not just about the album.
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“The Order of Spiritual Virgins”
Sinner Get Ready opens with its longest track, and it is an epic indeed deserving of its 9-minute run-time. It’s not an epic in the same way winding 20-minute prog rock songs are, but it captures more vividly and scarily than any other religious music I’ve heard the type of unworldly religious experience it sets up. The song is inspired by a sexually repressive and isolating Christian sect/cult from the 1700’s that resided in the state in which Hayter took residence during this album’s creation. The lyrics are few and they become taken over as the song progresses by these seriously eerie, mesmerized, atonal choir mantras of “eternal devotion”, but they are enough within the unnerving swells of strings and freakish explosions of clanging low-register piano and odd old-timey percussion to capture the sinister transfixion of being coaxed into extreme religious devotion. It is indeed not without its unambiguously negative connotations of futile hyper-protectivity and authoritarianism with the lines “Sickness finds a way in” (which ushers in the hypnotized swells of devotion and cinematically foreboding piano chaos) and “I am relentless, I am incessant, I am the ocean” making their way into the chants before “eternal devotion” takes over. Given the inclusion of elements of domestic abandonment and Hayter’s history of writing about her past (and at the time current) abuser, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to interpret/apply these lyrics to malignant devotion to a life-consuming abusive partner. The chaos of the song concludes with a spoken sample of a man talking about finding a more vivid connection to his lost mother’s presence in his childhood in silent solitude than to a tangible person in a crowd, solidifying the song’s theme of isolation through religious devotion: “that’s what you get out of the silence”. Whether it’s a deceptive religious leader, a controlling partner, or even a desperate devotion to an idea of God, the eerie, Cathedral-filling, soul-strangling monolith of instrumental cacophony of the song is brilliantly fitting. A phenomenal introductory movement to the album, and it’s only the beginning.
“I Who Bend the Tall Grasses”
Oh shit, second track in and this album is already more intense than the most try-hard shit out there with this song’s chilling dialogue between Hayter, God, and possibly one other person. I’m sure any who’ve been to church enough or who’ve had to sit through “grace” at the thanksgiving table last month with racist relatives know how the typical performative prayers go and how aggravatingly inauthentic they grow over years of repetition as a supposed communication to the most important power in life. It’s hollow bullshit. By contrast, the manic, vengeful performance Hayter gives here through some of the most dynamically and diversely expressive vocals on the album is realer than any prayer I’ve ever heard. While the lines of the song alternate somewhat ambiguously between being spoken by the praying speaker and the divine, the prayer itself is hardly ambiguous. Like she has many times before, Hayter’s speaker is a calling upon the Lord whom she has dutifully served and vociferously demanding divine vengeance upon the man in the lyrics. The way the lyrics progress, it sounds like God is refusing to grant Hayter’s demands despite her many sacrifices, and instead asserts his own power in defense of the man. While the rest of the album does see Hayter focus more on classically styled singing (however layered it gets), here she pulls out the violent, enthralling delivery that made her past works so chilling. Knowing now that this album was created not in the distant aftermath, but in the throes, of an abusive relationship heightens the grimness of this song especially. Like the preceding track, dissonant choral mantras raise the tension of the atmosphere as Hayter proclaims “where does your light not shine?” over grand pipe organ chords and chapel chimes as inverted in their appropriation as the religious imagery Hayter invokes in her vein-bulging, blood-curdling calls for death. It’s the most incantational/liturgical-like song in the album and it’s a brilliantly hellish, nightmarish distortion of it that’s as petrifying as music gets.
“Many Hands”
Reprising the refrain from “All Bitches Die (All Bitches Die Here)” that titles the album, “Many Hands” switches its mode of dialogue with the divine to from distorted Catholic chamber instrumentation to mutated Appalachian folk incantations, with sharply piercing and violent plucks of acoustic guitar or something else that sound as though they’re about the break the damn thing, along with dissonant strums of banjo or dulcimer or some shit backing Hayter’s cold recitations. The repeated lyrics about the Lord both weeping of his sacrifice for the speaker while holding her by the neck shed light on the internal contradictions of the gospel of the omnipotent and supposedly sorrowful God forced to both sacrifice himself and somehow unable to save those whom he loves. There are certainly parallels one could draw between the Lord in these lines and the controlling partner Hayter had at the time as well, and of all the songs on the album that parallel a loveless God and a loveless lover, this one perhaps paints the most candidly sinister picture of the kind of false benevolence of their repeated punishments. And the wholly unsettling instrumentation on the verge of snapping in the background behind Hayter’s operatic wails of really provides the anxiety appropriate for the song and brings out the true malevolence of both subjects in one of the album’s most sonically pioneering pieces.
“Pennsylvania Furnace”
This is the one that really gets me. As soon as this was released as the first song from the upcoming album, I knew this “toned down approach” was nothing to worry about except for what it would do to my tear ducts. Damn if this one isn’t a fucking heart-churner. Sticking to minimalist piano and only the subtlest of stringed backing to supplement her beautifully mournful vocals on the track, Hayter pulls out a simply breathtaking classical ballad piece whose every chord change is a perfect twisting of the knife in the soul. The song deals with the earthly hell of isolation and other people’s creating of that isolation but it also ties in this sense of hopelessness in the unconvinced religious invocations it employs. There’s just something so heartbreaking in the somber sarcasm in the earnest softness of Hayter’s delivery of “There is victory in Jesus”. There’s so much expression in it, I can hear the regret and self-chastising of turning for help to a God who never gave any. There are many ways to read into it, but the line “do you want to be in hell with me” to me reads of a defeated self-loathing that rejects what seems like the futility of help and only accepts company in misery. Knowing now how close the the brink of death Hayter’s relationship with Alexis Marshall pushed her, I could certainly see this song’s lyrics being pulled from a suicidal mindset, giving that line an even darker connotation. Goddamn there is so much concentrated heartbroken anguish in this song, and lines like “I know you want to stop, but you can’t stop”, the lines about casting off earthly bonds, the lines about watching the home with the family from a looking-in view while alone, and “I fear your name / above all others” are given so much more deeply tragic context in the wake of Hayter’s story about the relationship this song was borne from. Everything about this song, the somber piano, the swells of vocal vibrato, the tragic lyrics, to me, makes it the best on the album.
“Repent Now Confess Now”
Hayter takes us back to mass for the fifth track of the album with the return of the hall-filling strings and layered choral vocals (and bringing this time a banjo’s subtle strums), and to paint a portrait of self-loathing blame kneeling in desperation before a thankless and spiteful God. The odd references to the surgeon’s blade and the taking of her legs certainly tie into Hayter’s emergency surgery to prevent Cauda equina syndrome. The Lord’s taking of her legs and will to live (also given extra dark meaning in the context of her suicide attempt) as the apparent abundant pardon highlights the sadism mankind has written into God with religion and the lengths of self-hatred that abuse drove Hayter to. It is both angering in its themes and terrifying in how the overwhelming voices and ominous instrumentation plays into the congregational commands of repentance, another excellent fusion of disparate sounds and disfigured religious practice by Kristen Hayter and her collaborators.
“The Sacred Linament of Judgement”
Incorporating some of the most immaculate imagery on this album, Hayter contrasts forgiveness and rejection by God on the arbitrary ground they on which they stand on “The Sacred Linament of Judgement”. Hayter seems more focused on the cruelty of (man through) religion on this song than she is on the cruelty of man himself (through Alexis Marshall elsewhere on the album), but her inclusion of a sample of the confession of infidelity by evangelical pastor Jimmy Swaggart beneath the droning horns and strings and the religion-soaked verbiage she sings ties the song back to the real-world hypocrisy and abuses of power by religious figures and how even in the face of being proven liars, they fall back on and use God to defend themselves and cover themselves with a shield of new lies. And the more minimal and less dynamic droning of the instrumentation, to me, feels like it brings out the plain-facedness of these charlatans’ honey-coated treacheries. This is not to say that the music is dull or uninteresting; it is still filled with subtle percussive accents that give the song a human sort of beat. In the sampled sermon, Swaggart cites his betrayal against his wife Frances and other believers around the world before getting to the point with his proclamation of being washed by the holy blood of the Lord’s forgiveness, and (critically, key word here) forgetfulness. Hayter’s presentation of Swaggart’s being divinely forgiven alongside lyrics of her own forsaking by God shine light on the extremity of the reinforcement of misogynist societal standards by religion, making it a key thematic addition to the album that she builds upon further.
“Perpetual Flame of Centralia”
Before building on the Swaggart material, Lingua Ignota offers up another soft piano number with the album’s second single, “Perpetual Flame of Centralia”. The title referencing and inspired by an abandoned Pennsylvanian town beneath which a coal mine fire’s ceaseless burning made it uninhabitable, “Perpetual Flame of Centralia” finds Lingua Ignota returning to the meditative calmness of minimal piano and doubt-riddled religious odes. Through the album’s most deadly soft soothing vocals, Hayter both covers herself in the blood of Jesus and compares the poison of her life to that of the devil’s, all the while casting off fear for the sake of righteousness. The line “I rest my head in a holy kingdom” seems delivered similarly disingenuously to the victorious lyric in “Pennsylvanian Furnace”, and the choruses reinforce the stronger belief in a destiny in hell. It’s another one of the more open-ended songs on the album, but the quietness of the piano chords also really forces the focus on the contrast Hayter draws between the brief and futile beauty of life with the eternal fires of hell that the aforementioned ghost town so naturally evokes comparisons to and that she feels God had placed her in by putting her in Pennsylvania with no one but a new abusive partner. It’s the softest cut on the album, but the stylistic comfort and the break from dissonance it provides is a misleading comfort, and one that plays into to the themes of religion’s misleading comfort and abusers’ misleading affection throughout the album. It’s not viscerally violent, but it should certainly not be mistaken for peace either.
“Man Is Like a Spring Flower”
After ruminating on hell and Pennsylvania, Lingua Ignota picks back up where “The Sacred Linament of Judgement” left off, opening with an audio sample, now of a mildly adversarial interview of the sex worker who pastor Swaggart visited repeatedly. The interviewer asks if she believes Swaggart’s words of repentance and his tears, and after a brief hesitation during which the interviewer tries to suggest the sincerity of Swaggart’s confession, she responds with disbelief. She says that she thinks he is just doing at the pulpit what he had always done while he continued to come to her for sex and that the real Jimmy Swaggart is the one he showed her he was while hidden from the eyes of the congregation. Hayter then breaks into a acoustic folk-instrumentation-filled lamentation on the futility of love in what is probably her most open condemnation of the romantic infidelity by Alexis Marshall that was recently revealed to have been taking place. This song’s inclusion of the believedly true, infidelitous character of Jimmy Swaggart beneath his Christ-loving exterior and the unambiguous stanza “No one is enough / One is not enough / No one is enough / The heart of man is impossible to hold” make uncanny its inspiration by the insatiable need for sex and other women beneath the countless fake excuses for betrayal of Alexis Marshall. Hayter likens man to a vessel for God’s impulses, mostly violence and punishment, as he refers to the heart of man as a furnace, a fiery pit, the seventh gate of hell, quite frankly as the hand of God itself, and in an odd lyric that makes more morbid sense in hindsight, as a crushed horse’s tail. Anatomists named the bottom part of the human spinal cord that branches out at about the level of the sacrum the “cauda equina”, which means horse’s tail, because that’s what it looks like. Knowing now that her back injury was inflicted by Alexis and led to her having surgery for damage to these nerves makes all clearer that he is most certainly the primary subject of this song, in which Hayter undoubtedly analogizes him to the hellish punishment of God itself. Alexis’ infidelity to a degree possibly far beyond Swaggart’s only cements him further into the song as kin to the disgraced pastor with the repeated stanza of love and of no one being enough. The way the staccato strings, high-register vocals, and wooden percussion swell to a crescendo at the song’s climax make it one of the most dynamic and cinematic pieces of the album, and well deserving of its eclipsing of the 7-minute mark and yet another favorite on an album so difficult to pick favorites from.
“The Solitary Brethren of Ephrata”
With the last sample Hayter provides, probably the most infuriatingly relevant outside the album, the infamous churchgoer interview during the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic provides such a concise reminder of the wide reach of the real-world damage that the careless selfishness that lies at the heart of religious lunacy does. Asked about concerns of potentially spreading the sickness to others she interacts with, the interviewee replies only about the safety she herself feels she has as a believer “covered in Jesus’ blood” and that she believes others of her faith have, essentially condemning everyone else to suffer the judgement of God through the pandemic and capturing the malicious focal intent of punishment of outsiders beneath the “love the sinner” window dressing of religion. - And then Hayter launches into possibly the most heart-crushing song behind “Pennsylvania Furnace” to close out the album. The lyrics about belief in the promise of and longing for heavenly paradise read as both unbelieved hope in God’s love and as suicidal ideation with heaven as an escape from all the hells of the songs preceding this one. It’s the tragic morbid truth that suicidal people tell themselves and the solace that the loved ones they leave behind hold onto: that there’s no more pain for them anymore. “All my pains are lifted / Paradise is mine / All my wounds are mended”. The underlying cynicism and soulful brokenness in those words is so incredibly crushing given all that has preceded it, not just on this album, but also on CaligulaandAll Bitches Die and Hayter’s first work as Lingua Ignota. That Hayter is singing this not in raucous or fearsome dissonance, but rather in the sweetness of the major key of traditional hymns of worship behind some of the most gorgeous instrumentation on the album makes all the more somber and climactic the finality of the song and makes it stand out among the others. But Hayter is of course writing this after surviving her attempted suicide and after escaping her abusive relationship, and the paradise she consigns herself to is under the dominion of loneliness, “ugliness my home”, a heart-wrenching acceptance of isolation and the absence of love as the best it gets. That Kristen Hayter made it out of the hell of Pennsylvania and her relationship with Alexis Marshall while there is indeed a triumph, and perhaps that she has once again survived to make a powerful album is enough to call paradise.
Sinner Get Ready is tainted by not a single wasted sound or word, and for as difficult it is to fully express what this album does to me while listening to (and how difficult it is to fully understand exactly what it’s doing), I do know the incredible magnitude of its power, and it is indeed power. The impact this album makes goes beyond it sounding like nothing else with its revolutionary utilization of the sonic elements it pulls from. I am not a spiritual person, but the catharsis that Sinner Get Ready provides is certainly earns its description as a spiritual experience. It is a masterpiece of authenticity and musical vision that truly transcends genre that very few other pieces of music can also be called.
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Contextual Discussion:
As hard as this album hit on first listens, the different light that Hayter’s revelations about the abuse she lived through in her relationship with Alexis Marshall put this album in made this already-difficult album somehow a hell of a lot more crushing. She’s not singing about the same abuser she cursed on Let the Evil of His Lips Cover Him, or on All Bitches Die, or on Caligula. Tragically, Kristen Hayter is singing of a different man whose name is even alongside Lingua Ignota’s on a few non-album tracks she’s released since Caligula. It’s tragic also to think that what I had thought of as such a short time between CaligulaandSinner Get Ready for Lingua Ignota was in fact such an excruciating and probably seemingly eternal hell for Kristen Hayter. For anyone unaware, a few weeks ago, Hayter released a Google document with a statement detailing her relationship with Alexis Marshall and how he abused her. I had time and didn’t take any breaks. and it took me an hour to read it all. And it was a sickening and hate-inducing read for that entire hour which included (and now is the time to really invoke the content warning) damn near every possible color of lying, manipulation, sexual assault, outright and clear-cut rape, emotional and verbal abuse, financial abuse, and disloyalty by Alexis Marshall in service of his malignant sex addiction not just to Kristen Hayter but also other women in his life and his children. This included but was not limited to (and again, major content warning for the rest of the paragraph) penetrating her while she was sleeping (despite her already telling him this was something her past abuser did and that she did not consent to it, =rape), an instance of extremely violent sex in which he refused to stop and nearly paralyzed Hayter by inducing a hernia of one of her spinal disc (for which she needed emergency surgery), abandoning her before that surgery, repeatedly cheating on her, and callously abusive disregard after driving Hayter to attempt suicide in their basement.
What I just mentioned really is just the tip of that vile iceberg, yet for as heartbreaking as every paragraph of that massive text was, I would be lying if I said Hayter did not make me chuckle just once when she detailed how before her surgery, Alexis had himself a childish little pity party in which Hayter had to hand feed him nutrition bars while he was sitting on their hotel bed (again, before her life-threatening surgery), of which she simply said afterwards, “It was fucking ridiculous.” Again, there is so much that I simply do not have the space or desire to recount fully here that I do think is important for those with the stomach to handle it to be aware of. I think it is important to understand on as empathetic or sympathetic of a level (and not just intellectually) just how horrific abusive relationships manifest, what they can look like, and how what is a painful hour of reading for us is, for survivors, years of unbelievable torment and lasting trauma. “Life is cruel, and time heals nothing.” Far more important is that it is wholly inadequate to just gasp at another’s suffering and move on.
Hayter expressed that her reasoning for coming forward with these details was not just to shed light on truth but also to prevent what happened to her from happening to another woman. Those who followed Daughters more closely and for longer than me have pointed out that Alexis had earned himself a small but sour reputation for his rampant sex addiction beforehand and that it played no small role in the band’s long break-up before You Won’t Get What You Want. Yet his abuse of others for his sexual satisfaction has not yet earned him a wide or strong enough reputation to hinder his behavior. Hopefully Hayter’s coming forward can be enough spotlight to illuminate his behavior to any potential future victims, because the sense I got from my reading of it all was that Alexis is pretty unrepentant about it all (minimizing the hurt he did at best) and has no intention of doing anything seriously about the sex addiction that’s consumed his life and others’ . It’s so frustrating how clear some things are in hindsight, such as is the case here, or with Marilyn Manson, or Mark Kozelek, or Chris Brown where there were so many signs, but they were maybe just harder to see through the fog of the rest of their generally edgy and controversial personas. We can’t even get started here about older rock stars like Ted Nugent and Steve Tyler who out in the open sang about and performed predatory behavior in real life, which included involving minors. It’s not just the obvious suspects either. Sometimes it’s the people who only offer sparse or non-specific signs only visible in hindsight with the context of more knowledge or people who are very good at maintaining a quiet, if not wholesome, public image. People you wouldn’t expect. Like that guy from the now-defunct band, False, whose feminism was a significant part of their presentation.
This is not a suggestion of paranoia or baseless suspicion. It’s a suggestion of attentiveness, and it’s certainly not one that I’m trying to make from any kind of imagined high horse or enlightened moral high ground. I was more blindsided than I maybe should have been for Manson, and maybe Alexis Marshall as well. I saw Mark Kozelek coming though, the guy pretty much can’t help himself from broadcasting that he’s a miserable misogynistic asshole who’s desperate to keep pretend-living his rock-star youth with young, vulnerable female fans.
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I guess here is the place to put a concise version of my thoughts on problematic artists and such, everyone’s favorite topic. You know the problematic artist discourse is complicated, I get it; I don’t have a golden bullet answer to it. But somehow in all the discourse I’ve seen about being responsible and not supporting problematic artists and not enabling shitty behavior, I haven’t seen anyone acknowledge the obvious elephant in the room: fans don’t want to feel punished for something they didn’t do.
As listeners, watchers, readers, viewers, enjoyers of art, we all (should) go into enjoying any piece of art with the understanding that, no matter how authentic they may come off in their music or their public appearance, we never fully know the artist. We can’t know with complete certainty who of them might be up to some unsavory shit behind closed doors, even the edgy ones, some of whom genuinely do keep their antics on the stage and in the studio. And often the art we enjoy does indeed stand so far away from the artist that we don’t think about the artist at all (think: lo-fi hip hop beats to study/relax to). And then there are some (think: asshole Mark Kozelek and his dumb boomer podcast ramblings that he calls “songs”) who really put themselves as a person into their art. A little harder to dissociate that kind of shit.
I agree with minimizing support for artists doing bad shit on the basis of it possibly discouraging such behavior from others and it consequentially pressuring them to change, but that can be surprisingly hard to go absolute zero on. Does it stop at the band? Does it stop at the label? Does it stop at side projects? Does it stop at collaborators who haven’t come out and said anything? Just because there’s no agreed-upon line does not mean that we should just shrug our shoulders and say “well what can you do?” Ultimately, as an individual, the answer to that is pretty much nothing, but somehow you add up enough individuals and you can start to get some good change if you all know that better things are possible and expectable. Maybe you don’t all agree exactly how much more you deserve but you sure as hell know it’s more than that shit boss is paying you all. Maybe we don’t know exactly where we draw that “problematic artist” line, but we know the behavior Hayter described of Alexis Marshall is far beyond wherever we draw it. Being attentive as a listener, however casual or invested, is not about being a paranoid hyperreactive sentinel around artists and trying to have a power trip on people you have little individual power over, and it’s certainly not about policing individual fans into not listening to their Antichrist Superstar CD or whatever. Again, I get that vile behavior makes some artists immediately more repulsive and easy to let go of at the drop of a hat, and it’s easier for some to drop band they’ve listened to forever than others. And then I think of my favorite band, Meshuggah.
I listen to Meshuggah more than anything else probably. And to my knowledge they don’t have any accusers or hold any racist beliefs or anything of the like, but they could. And as much as I imagine it would very likely taint my listening to their music if everything I hypothetically proposed was in fact true for them, I have a hard time imagining not listening to them. How I listen to music has been so irreversibly shaped by Meshuggah, I tap the iconic rhythm of “Bleed” with my fingers on every surface around me without even thinking about it, and I hear Meshuggah in the thousands of bands they’ve influenced. I snuck Meshuggah into my wedding playlist. It’s honestly hard to think about what my music-loving life would look like without Meshuggah, and in some ways it feels impossible, and for me (and probably most Meshuggah fans) it has never been about Jens or Fredrick or Martin or Tomas or Dick. And it doesn’t seem like it’s ever been about them to themselves either. So I get it for fans who feel torn between their love for the music and their feeling betrayed or that it’s been tainted by the very artist that made it.
“But one thing I’ve learned is everything burns.”
Hayter herself said that her coming forward was not about cancelling Daughters or telling people that they couldn’t listen to Daughters. She came forward to help survivors and to protect other women from having to either also be survivors or not be so fortunate. I’m sure this still does ruin Daughters for a lot of people, possibly myself included. There is no “neutral” position in any of this, however much we might sometimes wish our love for music could be a little oasis to escape to from the shit of this world, that music is not detached from this world and everything we do with that music has some kind of impact on the world and that is power. Wow, we have power. [insert Spiderman uncle Ben quote]. Even if it’s just a little bit, there’s no such thing as just being a listener, we are all participants in music culture, whatever sub-culture feeds into it, and the broader cultures at large that music culture feeds into. None of it is on an island or in a vacuum, and that is well worth being mindful about.
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At the end of the day, being attentive and being a responsible participant in music as a fan or maybe even as a worker or artist means applying what power you have to produce the most positive impact you can (original and not cliché at all, I know). But really, where we have the most impact is with the people we know and can directly affect: friends, family, relatives, even asshole coworkers or people in our lives we kinda don’t like. It certainly doesn’t have to be just one or the other (artists or people we know), but if there’s one thing everything around Sinner Get Ready has emphasized to me, it is to support survivors and to stop abusers, by being educated on and alert to the ways they manipulate people and knowing when and how to use the power at your disposal to protect people. This isn’t scan the room constantly to make sure no jocks are dropping roofies in drinks at the party ocular pat-down vigilante bullshit (although, yes, do be smart in vulnerable situations and such). This means saying something that’s confrontational or that’s not easy to say to a best friend who’s constantly belittling his girlfriend, or to a close family member who might be in denial about the abuse they’re facing from another family member, or even just making it awkward for some rando dude at a party who’s making the girl whose boundaries he’s pushing clearly uneasy and making it easier for her to get away from it. Maybe you look like a dweeb for a minute, maybe that was enough to prevent a rape from happening even if no one ever thanks you for it. Maybe it’s straight-up calling police. Sometimes (perhaps often) it seems like it’s in vain, but your individual actions can be a seed or a catalyst for better outcomes. And sometimes better outcomes just don’t happen despite you doing everything right. Pop music fans in adjacent circles and far-away circles have been rightfully standing up to Chris Brown for over a decade and he has responded repeatedly by saying, “fuck you, I’m gonna keep being a piece of shit to women.” And he somehow manages to find fans and collaborators willing to support his career and look the other way on his behavior. Some games you’re the better team and you still lose, shit’s weird like that sometimes. By all means, continue to put pressure on artists directly, producers, collaborators, labels, and, yes, even fan bases that continue to enable shit like Chris Brown. Yours may just be a drop in the bucket that just has to keep getting fuller and heavier before it snaps.
The common (and probably also intentional) misconception about rape culture is that it’s people saying “yes, that’s rape, and that’s okay.” or “rapists know they’re raping and they do it anyway; they’re just terrible people.” In reality, what rape culture says is: "I know him, he wouldn’t do that”, or “that doesn’t constitute abuse”, or “she’s just trying to ruin his career or get attention”, or “why isn’t there any evidence for this accusation from this highly private moment from which it would be incredibly hard to procure adequate evidence for legal action in an unpredicted and adrenaline-filled situation during which the objective in the moment for any survivor would clearly be to survive it?” (maybe that one was a bit tongue-in-cheek), or all the victim-blaming classics we’ve all heard like Christmas songs once black Friday starts every time a survivor brings their story public. With Alexis Marshall, the excuse was always, “how dare you compare me to your past abuser, I have never hit you.” Up close it rarely looks the the same way it does when it becomes visible from a distance, and it’s rarely cookie-cutter bad-guy shit or quote-straight-from-the-textbook shit, but it’s worth being aware of as much of what points in that direction as possible.
Hell, if all you got from this was to point the finger outward, fucking think again. We’ve all internalized a lot of this shit as natural to our world or even just normal as parts of relationships, as so many of these stories point out, the people doing the abuse usually don’t think what they’re doing is wrong or what they’ve been doing is abusive. And goddamnit, as a stereotypical guy from a rom-com I’ve always got that simplistic knee-jerk urge to try to fix shit, but the hell if some blog post is gonna make a dent in rape culture. Maybe one person sees this and takes it to heart, worth the hours it took writing this. But it’s not just about fixing and preventing abuse, survivors need support too, and sometimes time really does heal nothing. Some traumas do leave scars that never fully heal, and sometimes things don’t get better. And that might be the hardest part of it all. But survivors need support regardless because no one deserves to have to be one and carry on alone.
The Grammy nominations are in, and February is practically around the corner! From new artist nominee Chance the Rapper to Album of the year nominee favorites Adele and Beyoncé, here are a few of your favorite artists who are in the running for a Grammy Award.
Taylor really got bored during quarantine and decided to start writing an album that has now just won album of the year at the grammys her mind amazes me
here’s a flashback in a film reel to ONE YEAR ago when our folklorian fam took home album of the year at the GRAMMYs! ✨ this is us trying to pretend it hasn’t been that long
: Kevin Mazur
Omg I just can’t believe that this was already one year ago
