I like pop music, dare I even say it, I love it.
From Christina and Britney bops back in the day to the T Swift and Olivia Rodrigo types of today…I’ll even go out on a limb and mention how I used to rock out to Michelle Branch. (Ugh! One of the best!)
There’s always some new hot tater tot Pop Tart coming out of the music machine.
When I’m in the right frame of mind, I’m thrilled to see people bring their gifts to the world and it’s a joy to see them succeed and shine with the talents that have been bestowed upon them. With all their glory earned through hard work and dedication, they deserve every bit of it!
That said, watching other people’s fame and success brings up other emotions too. And please don’t mind me while I bash myself and sulk in a tub of pity water for a few… in the same token of feeling good for you, hope you’re happy as hell… it makes me question whether or not I wasted my own talents. Jealously bites me with all the wonderful life opportunities it brings them. This gnaws in my brain while I walk to work or as I pace around in my apartment trying to focus on which useless and seemingly dead-end project I want to work on next. It makes me look at all the things I’ve done and realize I’ve never had a hit or an ounce of real monetary success for my creative endeavors. I never went viral. I don’t have a fan base. No one wants to ask me questions or have a tour of my apartment. My ego reminds me like some cold dark rat bastard, “You are a nobody.”
Sure I have a steady career in creative advertising and I get paid for some corporate-squeezed version of my creative juices… Should I revel in the fact I got a $25 Amazon gift card the other day for selling some commercial ideas that were produced for a 600k budget? Unfortunately, I don’t get any royalties as an ad copywriter, and my measly salary is getting devoured by rent payments… another reminder that I’m 36 and I can’t afford a home in Florida that I’d want to live in. The illusion of that rat bastard self asks again, “What have you done?”
Sure I made some laughs amongst my friends over the years. I’ve brought joy to the people I care about… but I wish I had a way to bring in financial freedom. Sometimes these thoughts smother the light in my mind. Depression and woes hit like dominoes. It seems to happen most often while I’m stuck in a vortex of social media consumption. Or at a moment I’m frustrated that some crush I want to have sex with won’t text me back or give me the time of day… the struggles to find a romantic partner — a common theme in a young artist’s pop music lyrics — which brings us back to the topic of love and pop-stars. Let’s get out of this tub of sulky water, shall we?*
Let’s take Olivia Rodrigo, not taking shots at her… she sings right from the heart and soul. Her music puts me under a spell. The videos produced for her songs are works of cinematic art. Her performances are raw and mesmerizing. She’s an absolute star that's fun to watch, her words weave together poetry and honesty. The infliction of her tone and range in her voice is incredibly impressive. She flat-out rocks and she’s gorgeous. The girl just has it. All of it! My mind gets entranced by the skill she possesses. Yet, I’ve simply been through more years of life experience than her. I’m frankly a bit wiser — so when I hear her storytelling and the lyrics… I’m pulled away from the charm as I realize most of the songs are about the same old human condition and juvenile confusion about love.
The same old shit. The tired tropes. Expressions of romantic joy or the lows of heartbreak. The word love — used to describe all of it.
I’ve learned there is a higher meaning of love. After all, it’s the most important human behavior there is. It’s the guiding force of life — the answer we’re all looking for.
What I also know is that our biology is hardwired to make us want to attach ourselves to other people in a tender little trap of addiction to help the species procreate. We are driven by this organism, this creature we exist within. This vessel our consciousness hitches a ride on. Its mission is to replicate its DNA. And all this oozing joy or heavy heartbreak and a desire to crave romance is just a fleeting feeling. A euphoria that will end. A pain that will pass. Romance fades, but we slap love on it as its synonym.
The love that matters. The love I’d wish more pop stars (and their songwriters) would sing and write about to inspire generations to practice and put into the world is something something more. Love is something to learn. A behavior and a path to the unity and respect of all forms of life — the self and the cosmos we’re all interconnected with. It sounds like hippie shit. Yet, it’s a simple truth. Love is a choice of action.
Pop music pisses me off because I know that these “love” songs aren’t about the love that is worth a shit to humanity. It’s only about the love that nags at us to fuck each other. They aren’t about the love that the world needs to learn to resolve conflict resolution or coexist. It’s about romance — that without awareness simply causes more madness.
So what? “Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs… What’s wrong with that?” these words, sung by a popular man named Paul are interesting because his band, The Beatles, started out writing songs about romance and the sort of love that is a confusing feeling, but then transitioned, (after the experience of some drug trips) scratched at the deeper meaning of love later in their musical career, packaging profound ideas in cryptic lyrics like , “Love is all you need.”
Maybe it’s just semantics… I guess it’s like saying rap music shouldn’t use fuck words… fuck words can mean a lot of different things. Fuck you. I don’t give a fuck. Let’s fuck. There are different meanings in each and each is understood within context. But fuck doesn’t ladder up to humanity’s most important guiding behavior. Fuck is fuck and there’s not much fucking importance about it. You don’t have epiphanies about fuck. An understanding and practice of fuck can’t unite and harmonize the world. We’re not evolving and learning to fuck. You get my fucking point?
I suppose you could say fucking has an important role in human survival. And that misusing the word fuck is confusing and stalling people from more fucking… but I think it’s safe to say that’s a stupid argument. Even if I only thought about it for two minutes… I suppose sex has its health benefits too.
The potential of love is so much greater. Petty pop lyrics remind me of how annoying it was to be a teenager entering my early twenties. It’s a cringing reminder of how stupid you are, how blind. How small-minded. How unevolved all of us humans are. Yet, it’s also a reminder to not be so hard on yourself, these are real legitimate feelings, that warrant a valid expression and that I do respect. Plus it’s art. And art is nice.
My hope is that people who are brave enough and have been put through a system that fosters and grows their talent will come across the right ideas to spread. Maybe it won’t be as relatable? Maybe swarms and masses of fans won’t dig it because it doesn’t sing true to their current heartbreak or simpleton experience... maybe the world isn’t ready for that kind of love. Fuck, people love hunting… they love it so much they go and kill deer. Nothing makes sense.
But maybe (definitely maybe) love is a truth we all know and you the star with the mic have the power to inspire and influence millions if not billions of minds. You can serenade them with the meaning of love that pushes human behavior forward.
When it comes to songs, people make them their own, they make them part of their own identity. Music is a powerful tool to transfer ideas and inspire… as all forms of entertainment are. And with that comes a duty and responsibility.
I’d love to write a love song with Olivia Rodrigo. One that’s actually about love. The universal, unconditional kind of love. As she says in one of her songs, “Love is embarrassing.” But it doesn’t have to be if you understand it. Is self-love embarrassing? Is parental or brotherly love embarrassing? What about unconditional love? What about choosing love as a response instead of violence? Who’s getting flushed-faced about that?
Love is used so willy-nilly… it makes me wonder if this whole book project and idea and call for action to be aware of the meanings of love even matter. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my point is moot. Am I like a wacky geologist writing a mountain of words to a community of nobody in a language of boring prose nobody can sit through to read? Would I be better off making annoying TikToks about it talking super close to the camera… What I’m trying to express is that love is an extremely important human behavior yet to be fully understood, there is more to learn and more ways to put it in action.
And so, if you’re gonna write a love song, write a better fucking song about love.
*Friendly Reminder: Your mind is like a blue sky... and depression is like a cloud in that sky. It will pass. It helps to remember that behind that cloud, the sky is always blue. The light is there and it will shine again. After reading some bits I wrote here a couple of weeks later and editing them, I look at these pity-party-filled feelings and thoughts from a distance, almost as if it was someone else was feeling them. They don’t feel as heavy… silly to think I was feeling depressed about my life in the light of someone’s success. Isn’t jealously embarrassing?