turn out the lights

I try really hard not to make a habit out of repeating things. It's not just to avoid that tired old cliché about the definition of insanity (news flash: that's not really the definition), or to just avoid repetition. I don't really know anyone that likes saying the same thing over and over again.

Unless you're an actor, and you're getting paid for it.

Repetition can be a good thing. Malcolm Gladwell has both made a career out of it and made good points with it - he's written the same pop social science over and over, and in his book Outliers he goes in depth on the idea he calls "The 10,000 hour rule." According to Gladwell it takes at least 10,000 hours of "deliberate practice" to become really good at something. It has always felt a little hokey, and there seems to be quite a bit of research against it, but as an inspirational bit of pop culture, I say "practice away!"

Repetition can also be so unbearably awful it can crush the spirit. It's not always that bad (but hyperbole is fun!), but I think you can see what I'm getting at. Unless you're something like a cookie cutter, doing the same thing the same way every time can turn into a bit of a crap shoot of outcomes.

I'm repeating an artist again this week, something I've only done once before. Last year I gave Julien Baker's debut album Sprained Ankle the award for "best late discovery" because I missed it the first time around in 2015. After touring in support of a host of artists you've definitely heard of, she's returned with her major label debut Turn Out The Lights on Matador Records. 

The now 21-years-old Baker has put out another stellar record. She's again the only songwriter. She's still playing guitar and piano, yet on this record there are subtle flourishes of strings and winds hiding in the recesses. It's still sparse on production and backing instrumentation yet at the same time it again is in that simplicity that it finds it's power. She's still fighting the same demons that were laid out for inspection on Sprained Ankle - drinking, drug use, coming to terms with sexuality, coming to terms with God, coming to terms with the south.

Some of those demons she's beaten more than others, and in the fight is the prize of the album. Baker is now able to sing about recovering and dealing with years under her belt. The haunting quality of her voice is a more true reflection of ghosts dissipating than spectres with their arms still wrapped around her. At the end of the final track, "Claws In Your Back," she sings "i'm better off learning/how to be/living with demons i've/mistaken for saints/if you keep it between us/i think they're the same/i think i can love/the sickness you made," and then she closes the piano, her work finished. 

I feel like I'm repeating myself a lot here. With all due respect, Baker has as well. It's a damn good thing she's really, really good at it. 

Recommended tracks: "Turn Out The Lights," "Appointments," "Sour Breath," "Everything That Helps You Sleep," "Hurt Less"