March 18: Whiskey and Twizzlers and Youth’s Discontent

No surprise, when you think about it, to see the Cozy aesthetic rise to such prominence among Millennials. Stardew Valley, The House on the Cerulean Sea, lo-fi beats to study to, hygge living rooms, and plant moms. They’re all escapist fantasies that rhyme with each other in the same way, speaking to the anxious housebound months of pandemic hobbies and an over saturated news cycle full of world-ending anger. Cozy is a pocket dimension beside a fireplace. But it can’t just be the fire, there must be the cold wind blowing outside too. It can’t only be the found family, it must also be the familial alienation from before. It can’t simply be the hug, it must also be the loneliness.

The Cozy aesthetic sometimes wants us to forget the chill that is its foundation. But Cozy is inherently about the contrast, because without it, the restfulness turns to indolence. You begin to see convalescence not as a recovery, but as a permanent condition. Cozy done right is nourishing and replenishing. The fire dies down and you feel you’ve gotten what you needed from it and so you venture back out under the winter sky, maybe remembering that its cold blue is as beautiful as the orange glow of the hearth.

Death Cab for Cutie - Asphalt Meadows (Acoustic)

My favorite Death Cab album has been Narrow Stairs for a long time. Its sleek production lent a spooky intimacy to Ben’s witty lyricism that I continue to find unique in their catalogue. The entire Marvel cinematic universe has risen and plateaued in the intervening years between Narrow Stairs and last year’s release, Asphalt Meadows, and Death Cab has struggled a bit since then with uneven releases and a musical approach that has sometimes struggled to find a home in the contemporary streaming landscape. I liked Asphalt Meadows when it dropped, I thought it featured some of the group’s strongest, most relevant songwriting in more than a decade, but it dropped off my radar pretty quickly.

Thankfully, their acoustic version of that record has put those songs back on my plate this week. The production is still modern and lush, but the pared back instrumentation puts the focus where a good Death Cab album should always have it - on Ben’s expressive voice and writing. The songs here fit easily on the shelf right next to “Brothers on a Hotel Bed” and “The Sound of Settling”. Listening to the ironic sorrow of “I Miss Strangers”, I felt close to the emotions I had back in 2006, Plans spinning on the boombox, but tastefully matured with weariness and wisdom.

Code Kunst - “55” feat. Yerin Baek and Wendy

Back in the pandemic’s freshman year when I spiraled long and deep into a black hole of k-pop discovery, I found and fell in love with Yerin Baek’s silky, mournful take on lounge-ready R&B. Her record Every letter i sent you. remains one of my most listened to albums. Since then, Baek’s released music ranging from lo-fi electropop to 90s soft rock worship, but on this appearance with Korean producer and composer Code Kunst and Red Velvet chanteuse, Wendy, is a call back to that 2020 record I love so much. Blissful, quiet playlist fodder for people who love Jessie Ware’s pre-disco turn. If you’re looking for a cozy, wistful listen as the season finally moseys into spring, check this out.

“Love Languages: a Philosophical Horror” by Big Joel

Big Joel is one of the more prominent voices in “breadtube”, that loose collection of leftist-ish YouTubers making lengthy video essays on a whole range of cultural and political issues. He’s not for everyone, but I tend to appreciate his thorough attention to the minutiae of weird cultural questions, and his flat, candid delivery gives his videos the tenor of an intellectual lullaby.

In this video, Joel basically vents his annoyed frustration at a pop psychology institution: the love languages. It’s basically thirty minutes of slightly petulant observations about how silly the whole concept of each person having a unique arrangement of behaviors through which they experience affection. He invites you to pause and consider whether or not the whole enterprise is just a little absurd on face and then turns to discuss some of its more sinister implications about the nature of relationship and love in the first place. It’s a pleasant, crotchety journey.

Terrace House: Opening New Doors - Netflix

This has been out for a while, and I might have event recommended an earlier of season of it before in this newsletter, but the Terrace House series continues to be one of the few reality TV experiences I can jive with. The pitch is this: put six young people in a nice house for a while and see what happens. No challenges, no immunities, no competition. The only real wrinkle is the show pauses twice per episode to showcase some commentary from six or seven Japanese comedians, celebrities, and hosts. It’s like stopping Survivor right in the middle to see what Kelly Clarkson and the guy from Hot Ones think of the whole thing. The effect is a surprisingly powerful invitation to chat through the whole show with whoever you’re watching with - even if it’s just yourself.

It's been nearly a year since you've heard from me. I hope you don't mind me just popping up in your inbox after all this time. I can tell you, for me, the hospitality is really nice.

-- The Crossover Appeal