Mac Miller's posthumous album, Circles, was released last week. I know everyone has their own take on posthumous work - and mine varies, but for this album specifically, I'm grateful.
I didn't discover Mac until late in the game. I'd heard rumblings of his artistry and greatness, but never quite found the time to dive in. I appreciated his work with The Internet and enjoyed his alter-egos, Larry Fisherman and Larry Lovestein, but didn't spend much time with any of it. It was his Tiny Desk performance in August 2018 that got me. And a month later he died of an accidental overdose.
As a new fan, who deeply enjoyed the complexity of Swimming, I was saddened. I found many lyrics on that album relatable - they were troubling yet honest. He was incredibly vulnerable. To know that such a darkness lived in a man who seemed to always have a smile on his face was, admittedly, horrifying, because more than anything, it reminds me that no matter how self-aware one may be, sometimes the demons win. Not everyone can be saved.
We're all broken in our own ways – yes, some more than others. But, one thing I do believe, is that we are never alone. And I guess that's what I wish to tell anyone struggling at any level with depression and sadness: lonely does not mean alone. That feelings are feelings, not facts. And that doesn't mean they are wrong - feel the things you need to feel, but also remember you are not your feelings.
Circles, produced by the great Jon Brion, is a continuation of Swimming. It's soft, raw and full of conflict. At times it feels like he's surrendered. Circles broke my heart all over again. But it also made me happy to have found Mac when I did and to be extremely grateful for his artwork that lives on. To be able to process my own emotions and experiences with the help of his words and melodies.
Take care of your loved ones. But don't be too hard on yourself, either. We're all on our own paths and I'm thankful that mine has crossed all of yours.
I included a link to Jon Brion's interview with Zane Lowe on the making of Circles in the links below. Take a listen.
And for this week's song, I offer up "That's On Me," a track from Circles that I really liked.
Talking isn't the only way to heal. In fact, some trauma imprints itself in places beyond where language can reach. Besser van der Kolk, an admired and respected psychiatrist, was recently on one of my favorite podcasts, 'On Being' with Krista Tippett, to discuss ways to process and work through our painful experiences.
Speaking of meditation (listen to the podcast above), here's a poem I wrote last year about meditation. I've found it helpful as I work to make it a habit again this year.
Looking for a little more poetry in your life? Tracy K. Smith, who served as U.S. Poet Laureate from 2017 to 2019, hosts a daily podcast 'The Slowdown,' and it's great way to start your day. Tracy chooses a new poem each day and breaks down its verses in under 10 minutes. But don't be fooled, the emotion and depth is always there.
I'm including this again because not enough of you clicked on it. Andre 3000 sat down with Rick Rubin for the Broken Record podcast to talk creativity, confidence, self-reflection and mental health. If there is just one thing you click this week in this newsletter, let it be this.
This dude spent 2019 eating only tacos in Southern California. He left a lot of Yelp! reviews. He also made a spreadsheet ranking each taco he ate. I have my own qualms with the list (Los Cuatro Milpas doesn't show up until 116), but overall I'm impressed with his commitment to the experience. And now I'm craving a good, real taco.
Y'all know I love D'Angelo. And while I don't have a favorite song of all time (seriously impossible), if I did, "One Mo Gin'" off Voodoo would absolutely be in the running. "Lovin Gotchu High" by AgaJon, is a sample of that D'Angelo track and it's magical, upbeat and as one would expect, very groovy. Enjoy it.
A couple of songs I've been listening to lately: "Love Song" by Lana Del Rey, Hope Tala's "D.T.M.," and "Morning Sun" by Potatohead People featuring Nana B.
