Beat logo

No Time For Zen, Only Joyous Despair

A Remarkably Un-Zen Playlist

By Steven Christopher McKnightPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
7
No Time For Zen, Only Joyous Despair
Photo by Matteo Stroppaghetti on Unsplash

I’ve never been one for chillhop or smooth jazz, so when I saw that there was a Vocal+ challenge for a zen playlist, I thought, “Wow, there has never been something I’ve been more wildly underqualified to be a part of.” But I’ve chewed on it a bit, and I realize that I do have my music that I unwind to. It’s stressful, fast-paced, thoroughly despairing, but it’s how I relieve the stresses of the day, and I stand by it. It’s music that makes the world make sense, and it’s a lot of different work, but ultimately, it comprises a fuller picture of me. So why don’t I share a little bit of that?

When the Frayed Wind Blows by Matt Pless

Matt Pless is Scary Bob Dylan. I ran into his music on the Fistful of Vinyl YouTube Channel where my immediate thought was, “He kinda looks like one of my professors.” But his songs speak truth. Frayed Wind is a winding, winded song about the complicated world we live in, a condemnation of capitalism, and a testament to the circular nature of revolution. My first listen-through, I found myself thinking, “This is a bop,” but the second and third time, I realized, “This gentleman is based.” The world is chaotic and despairing like the timbre of the song suggests, and it’s comforting to realize that there is a newer, scarier Bob Dylan who will continue to sing truth to whoever will listen.

Art School Wannabe by Sorority Noise

Art School Wannabe is a song about an artist coming to the realization that if art is pain, and if they lived a relatively painless life, what kind of artist are they? It plays my insecurities like a damn fiddle, and that’s everything I ever wanted in a song. “Maybe I’m too scared to admit that I might not be as dark as I think.” I feel that. I want to wake up to this song and have the opening title sequence to a C-grade indie movie unfurl around me.

Call Me Linda by The Taxpayers

There are a couple of songs by The Taxpayers that I wanted to include on this brief playlist. There is a different version of this song on the Punk With A Camera YouTube Channel that’s faster-paced and more folksy, but the album version is an immense dose of clarity in a vastly unclear song. It’s a song about acceptance of the insignificance of life, and it’s evocative of a sort of melancholy joy, like a warm glass of something bitter on a cold winter morning. It tastes like shit, but at least you’re warmer.

Palmcorder Yajna by The Mountain Goat

I linked to my favorite live version of this song, but honestly, every version of this song slaps. In a different live version of this piece, John Darnielle, one of the best men to ever walk on this planet, says that this is a story about how, at some point, a certain individual may have the impulse to rob the safe at the restaurant where they work, blow it all on drugs, and stay in a haze for several days. Darnielle is an artist who is not afraid to experiment live. This particular rendition does not take place with the full band: rather, it just has synths and guitar, and it’s the most moving thing I’ve ever heard. Gives this piece such a specific character, and it might be the only piece on this list that actually belongs on a “zen” playlist.

Nero by Matt Pless

I hate to end the same way I started, but there’s something about the line “So I’m laughing up in heaven in the arms of armageddon” that inspires calm. Nero by Matt Pless is a brilliant foil to When the Frayed Wind Blows, in that while Frayed Wind is cyclical in the ominous way, Nero is oddly renewing. It’s joyously detached from the horrors of the world: The snake that eats itself is but a temporary fixture in the world we inhabit, and the artist can fiddle about while the world burns around them. I don’t know what to make of it, but it makes me feel warm on the inside.

I am sorry if any aspect of this article stressed you out, but honestly, this is what soothes my nerves. Maybe it’s the familiarity of the work. As someone who spends a lot of time perceiving a certain image of the world, it’s comforting to listen to music that is aware of that image of the world that I’m seeing. Or maybe the art evokes an aesthetic that I wish to emulate in my own work. Whichever way it is, I hope the music I shared speaks to at least a couple of people reading this article.

playlist
7

About the Creator

Steven Christopher McKnight

Disillusioned twenty-something, future ghost of a drowned hobo, cryptid prowling abandoned operahouses, theatre scholar, prosewright, playwright, aiming to never work again.

Venmo me @MickTheKnight

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.