![]() ![]() You can’t help but feel like someone bolted the washing machine door closed while you’re trapped inside, banging into the metal walls and desperate to just get out. When Mitski breaks out the key change in the song’s chorus-turned-outro, though, it’s appropriately fraught and on edge, even when she segues into a downtrodden whisper. In someone else’s hands, the spiral descent at the heart of “Nobody” would lose its steam, like an infomercial salesman shouting, “But wait, there’s more!” as he desperately tries to hold your attention. Generally speaking, a key change usually belabors a song’s message ad infinitum in the most obnoxious way. The best part, however, comes at the very end: A key change reprise. There’s plenty to love about “Nobody”: The tight hi-hat drumming, the plainspoken tale, the gracefulness with which Mitski leaps to high notes. It’s one of those personal lows that’s impossible to shake from your history, but for Mitski, it also serves as the backbone of “Nobody,” her disco-pop song that elevates panic attacks to an artform. At one point, she started repeating the word “nobody” between sobs - at once a self-pitying reminder of former love interests and a desperate plea for company, free of pity or conversation. So Mitski did what any reasonable human would do: Fall to the floor and, in a self-described “semi-fugue state,” start bawling on her hands and knees. She was lonely, she felt unwanted, and there was nowhere she could go to escape it. Instead of getting a little post-tour clarity, she was consumed by an existential crisis. At the same time, it’s also very easy, because you can’t choose incorrectly when you’re picking from a catalog as dependably strong as hers.Ī few years ago, Mitski flew to Malaysia and sublet an apartment to decompress by herself. In many ways, it’s hard to choose 10 songs by Mitski and declare them the best. Along the way, she’s crafted a wide range of material that’s incredibly good and incredibly varied. Even if the motivating factor was a desire to outrun the interests of her fans, instead of shaking off a following she’s accrued an even bigger one. Nearly a decade into her career, Mitski has shown more growth, dexterity, and emotional depth than musicians twice her age. It’s just the very presence of honesty in Mitski’s music that serves as a balm. It’s not even that she’s resurfaced on a sunnier side. ![]() Mind you, there’s no linear path or straightforward solution in her tracks. From “Strawberry Blond” to “I Bet On Losing Dogs,” her songs always prop open a window into the life of a person who’s struggling immensely but finding a way to get by. Perhaps that’s why her music feels like more than just an outlet for all the depression, rage, and fear that cloud her mind. It’s rare and refreshing to see an artist land GQ features and New Yorker spreads the way Mitski has these past few years, especially considering she imbues so much of her identity in her songs.Īs a Japanese-American artist, Mitski has faced her fair share of racism and sexism, both within the music industry and in real life. “Though I may never be free/ Fuck you and your money,” she screams on 2014’s “Drunk Walk Home.” And yet that just makes her ascent into the mainstream that much more rewarding. To be fair, Mitski was honest from the very beginning when it came to prioritizing her values and beliefs over fame and money. “It’s almost like: ‘Well, before this goes to shit and you stop liking me, I’m going to do something that I know you won’t like, so that I’m the one who’s rejecting you,’” she said. The way she sees it, changing sounds is how she will shake off the fever dream that is her nonstop swell in popularity. During the press cycle behind her excellent 2018 album Be The Cowboy, the indie singer-songwriter told the Guardian that she spent the last few years “waiting for everyone to just decide to hate me.” Mitski jumps from one genre to the next on each of her albums - be it the jazz piano of 2012’s Lush, the theatrical drama of 2013’s Retired From Sad, New Career In Business, the lo-fi fuzz of 2014’s Bury Me At Makeout Creek, or the breakout indie rock of 2016’s Puberty 2 - in hopes of shooting herself in the foot. Luckily for her fans, she’s very bad at it. Nobody knows self-sabotage better than Mitski. ![]()
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