on Sincerity is Scary

April 14, 2020

Blog 7: on Sincerity is Scary

I messaged my long estranged older sister with a belated birthday message, to the ire of my little sisters who thought I put too much effort in it. I replied "sincerity is scary", quoting the 1975's tried and true single from their latest album "A Brief Inquiry into Online Relationships". I then proceeded to listen to the song, having not listened to it for months now. I had instead been shuffling a playlist of the songs I listened to in high school, trying to find a piece of myself that was lost. 

As I listen to the song (and subsequently the whole album), I can hear a little bit past the 1975's rather outlandish brand of pretentious yet catchy lyrics about postmodernism, kitsch, and what not. There was a theme that suddenly clicked when in "love it if we made it", Healy sings "modernity has failed us, but I love it if we made it". This kind of critical reflection is both regretful but at the same time authentic in affirming the saying 'love it if we made it'. This rather pithy remark of blasé optimism captures the kind of mood that brings about a nihilistic yet Camusian brand of absurdism: "The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart." (see Myth of Sisyphus). Although Camus ends this essay the sentence after this with "One must imagine sisyphus happy", that kind of idealism that powered the existentialist movement would be lost to us living in our present age. 

And this is exactly the kind of thing that defines what the 1975 is more than their reference to Kerouac's On the Road. Their music which sounds outside its time, which harkens back to exactly that age (late 1970s-80s) that tries to use its platform to challenge, synthesize and question the norm, is a tough balancing act. The melodies are catchy and even sometimes outlandish to the point that some people sing along to it anyway like the previous generation sang to Anthony Kiedis' Californication ("psychic spies from china try to steal your mind's elation"?). So in a way the general following that professes to "like" the 1975 would be people who chant their mantra without much thought besides the feeling of the hook: "and I love it if we made it"; yeah that makes sense let's chant it again! This is pushed back by their die hard fans who profess to relate to the band's mission, creating some kind of youth movement. But the 1975 are too vague to be profound, instead fueling the agendas of their box fans in the general "air" of their mannerisms from british accents to using the strange words they use in regular conversation. Emotionally enflamed, a 1975 concert would ignite a die hard crowd with an paradox: each one having their own relation to their understanding of what the 1975 is trying to tell everyone while also contradicting the guy to their right or the woman two rows ahead.

But I am giving them (both the band and the fans) too much credit. It is rather the central theme of love that the 1975 takes as their muse, which they situate their nostalgia (but not) brand in our present time. There seems to always be some kind of other nostalgia they are opposing though, so they don't embrace nostalgia in general. For example, in "Nana", Healy sings about his grandma's ("nana") death, grieving with this bittersweet tune: "I don't like it now you're dead, it's not the same when I scratch my own head, I haven't got the nails for it". Following up this rather morbid tune is setting up the opposition: "I know that God doesn't exist, and all of the love that surrounded it, but I like to think you hear me sometimes"; which is a flagrantly poetic statement of atheism. It is painted as nostalgia but also as a revisionist nostalgia, the kind that obviously beckons the "viewing the world through rose tinted glasses" cliché; a kind of confirmation bias for a dusty memory stowed in a closet, forgotten to be moved into the even dustier attic. 

Yet the solution in this song isn't even a viable alternative to the religious life. Healy suggests poetry and songwriting to help him deal with death: "melody line for you tonight... think that's how to make things feel alright. Made in my room this simple tune, always keep me close to you. The crowds will sing, the voices ring and it's like you never left; but I'm bereft you see, I think you can tell– I haven't been doing too well...". But even then it's sad but perhaps he is a realist– wallowing in a sad reality at least is living in reality for what it is. But even this falls apart– he's still "bereft" despite the empty response he gets when he tries to call his nana to him (in spite of the chanting crowds). The only optimistic take home one can take is that reflection is a somber solution that can help one get by. It's "authentic" and "real".

But really what is description without action? As C.S. Lewis is often quoted: "Education without values, as useful as it is, seems rather to make man a more clever devil". In our secular time, this may seem rather decrepit and outdated while also making a little bit of sense if we remove the religious connotations to "devil" and just use the colloquial term. But even the colloquial term has hidden within it the etymological history of slandering and attacking. Rooted in this term is that idea that if people don't have normative rules that they refine through education, they are just reinforcing the nature to debase another person for one's own gain. 

And so, even after coming back to the 1975 after a trite counter remark to my little sister's comment, I can feel that pull towards the world that the 1975 wants us to be in– a boxed echo chamber where "love" is mistaken for lust (see Tootimetootime) or even abandoned as an ideal altogether (see change of heart). A lot of the songs that the 1975 put out in their discography seem to follow a kind of continuity: "The City" is referenced in "A Change of Heart", for example; further reinforcing this emo-sisyphean approach.

In a positive light, the 1975's music is a kind of therapy session for the self, where one feels comfortable to speak their mind without judgment. But this can be seen positively only if we squint at seeing it this way (and even then find it hard to believe); because they blast out or have the vocals still in front of a slow ballad (Be my mistake, Nana, She lays down). One who does this self-therapy, painting emotions and really "dwelling" in it is Grouper (see clearing, I'm clean now and holding). Although in fairness Grouper has a far less reach than the net that the 1975 casts; must one compromise intelligibility for popularity? I don't think so. And it pains me to write this because I do like The 1975 because I also like to dwell while also sing a long to catchy and happy sounding melodies (primed by my love for Death Cab for Cutie), because the paradox of comedy in the light of tragedy seems more real than merely being a sad boi about it (which one usually progresses from and gets tired of eventually). 

So as a band, the 1975 are pretty solid. But they can't teach me anything that I don't already know. They can be clever while never having any value other than being a point of reflection for why their brand of pseudo-sorrowful comfort beats seemed like a good solution to escape it all, but when out of it, you realize that they never really provided any new insight– they are such beautiful post-scripts to more serious work yet so unaware of it.