Snobbin: Beautiful Trash in the Pop Culture Gutter

I'm trying to write longer, languorous lines, you know, as I have not been writing like I should. These lines might form a rib, a bit, an attempt at honest expression, or an artistic endeavor to keep me from my dotage. To shake off the brain fog, post-Covid before I fix my shaky, sore carpal tunnel hands and get back to work. I wake up numb in brain, fingertips straining and hurting, finding it hard to talk, momentary, mental lapses, and an inability to move, work, or think. The cabin helps as the bright sun shakes off the long upper Midwest winter, which felt like it lasted eight months this year. The mosquitoes materialize from seemingly nothing to work like tiny Draculas on all available creatures. A bald eagle screeches in its deceptively tiny bird voice, and the chipmunks chase each other with much commentary. A toad hops through the gray dirt of the campfire pit in search of a cool escape from the torturous sun's red rays. I defog as I watch every other creature move thro...

Place matters in the grand scheme  as we plan the rest of our short lives in between careers, births, and death, tracing the lines of worry and doubt on faces that age like earthen masks,  cracking and morphing into new forms  that recall our parents and their familiar tragedies and strategies in months that begin with archaic, internalized letters, fomenting lethargy and resilience like the graying maples and elms, the wintry oaks, the desolate brown topped spruce,  as those seasons change and loss becomes static reality in this Upper Peninsula, this region of utmost cold, where the snow falls and blankets the silent masses, ergo, a laugh, a sound, an eruption of jubilant life in resistance to the colors that drain, clamorously calling out for meaning.  Ha! Relentless ones! You are stuck here! Lift up your choices and dig in!

While "This Year" generally gets the most accolades of the songs on The Mountain Goat's arguably most signifcant song cycle, The Sunset Tree , due to its catchy chorus and relatable message, my favorite track on the album is undoubtedly "Hast Thou Considered the Tetrapod," although its nearly impossible to pick a song from this stellar set of doubtful, autobiographical uncertainties. The album fits into what I consider John Darnielle's greatest period, the albums that added more instrumentation starting with Tallahassee and stretching to Heretic Pride . Of course, there are also cases to be made for Darnielle's earlier boom box tape recordings. After that, I drifted away from their catalog and am hoping to revisit the later albums more extensively.  I could probably write about most of Darnielle's songs, but "Tetrapod" connects more closely to my life than many of the others because of its relationship to music, growth, and fear. The pain o...