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Middle-aged Mallrat Wannabe

A letter to Grace

By Jenny BrucePublished 4 years ago 4 min read
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Have you ever seen that strange middle-aged woman who struts up Manhattan’s Amsterdam Avenue every morning? And back again every evening? She’s been spotted in Midtown and in multiple places across New York City. She's been described as a fast-walking mature lady with unkempt curly blond hair, wearing ear-buds, belting out something that sounds like “sing my songs about you.” People have reported having to quickly leap out of the way as this woman is prone to sudden explosions of air-keyboard playing and dramatic conducting. Some have witnessed a full-on Napoleon Dynamite jazz-hands episode, arms jutting up and sweeping out in a dangerous arc over her head as her hips sass and sway. On very rare occasions, city-dwellers have witnessed her performing a shoulder-shimmy, skipping, and, well...

That lady would be me.

Adulting sucks. And frankly, as you get older, it only sucks more audibly and harder. The stress, I mean joys, of parenting, caring for ailing parents, balancing work/life (not possible) and aging gracefully (just don’t look in the mirror) become a ten-car-pile-up and you start to equate fun with emptying a bottle of wine.

OK, I'm saying "you." Let me be more specific. Me.

What happened to fun? And I’m a singer-songwriter. I write and record songs, have a loving, supportive family, and enjoy a relatively creative day job as a communications director in a school full of effervescent, “the imagination-trust,” always-high-on-life preschoolers. Fun-central, right?

Well, as you get older, you come to the understanding that you have to create your own fun. Summon it. Like calling the rain in a drought; dance for it. And I suggest you get on that immediately if you aren’t on it now. Because life isn’t going to leave fun wrapped in a pretty bow on your doorstep. How do I know? Well, somebody smeared what appeared to be human feces on the door handle of my building the other day.

Not fun.

The call of the sofa, and the very real brain-depletion of 21st century living make binge-watching Netflix a go-to move. Just add wine and press play.

And I suppose there’s nothing inherently wrong with doing that from time to time. But can you recall when you were younger and liked to leave your apartment? To hang out with your friends? Often? Go out dancing until 4 AM? Throw a party? Hear live music? Do you remember what that feels like?

Well, thank god there is music to remind us. And, more specifically, right now, thank god for Mallrat (and producer Besenji). Born well after I graduated college, Australian rapper and artist, Grace Shaw, goes by Mallrat and has been my musical Zoloft for more months than I care to count. When I listen to her song “Nobody’s Home” I feel like I’m sixteen and have a huge crush on the boy in drama class and I’m getting dressed to go to a party at a friend’s apartment and her parents aren’t going to be home. I feel exhilarated.

Grace, may I call you Grace? Your name suits your voice which glides so effortlessly through those hooky nursery rhyme melodies. Your music is so quirky, uplifting, and harmonically, deeply satisfying that I can’t possibly listen and not smile, or dance, or both. And I don’t care where I am or who is watching. I’ve gone as far as to hold out my earbud to a bewildered stranger who, stopped at a red-light, was staring at me, wide-eyed. “Check this out,” I told him. He loved it too, of course.

Grace, these past months have been exceptionally stressful and I've needed you, Mallrat, more than ever.

My beloved father died this fall after a lengthy, soul-scouring bout with Parkinson's disease, my husband started a new job and is never home, big changes in my work, and my two teenage boys are... being teenagers.

I. Need. Mallrat.

When “Nobody’s Home” comes to that stirring bridge, Grace, where the beat drops down to hand-claps, I have to stop in my tracks, wherever I am. Whatever I'm doing. My arms extend out from my body and I allow the glorious (in my mind) interpretive dance moves to ensue. I am transformed by the chord changes, and with them my mood shifts as the track continues to lift and crescendo around your oh-so-nonchalant vocals. So damn fun.

Thank you, Grace. Mallrat. Besenji. Music.

Fangirl confession, I was very excited when I saw the music video to this song for the first time and realized that it’s not just me. The simply requires dance moves. And the choreography in this video is fabulously reminiscent of the my fave OA TV show’s 5 movements with a little Queen-Elizabeth-wave tossed in for good measure. Feels like a flash mob just waiting to happen.

For now it’s just me. Flash mob of one. If you see me on the street, will you join me? Let's have some fun.

humanity
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About the Creator

Jenny Bruce

Jenny Bruce, is a New York City independent singer-songwriter with 3 full albums and an EP. She will be releasing her first album as GHOSTE in 2020.

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