You didn’t miss anything—check out 639 try to resist, 640 might have been, 641 pin you down, and 642 ready to go.
I find travel to be exhausting, despite quite enjoying myself. The newness of it all is overstimulating, and I often find myself seeking out familiar places like bookstores and quiet corners of cafes. I have a constant, niggling awareness of the impermanence of it all—the suitcase in the corner, my phone screen showing a map in my hand.
I long to settle into a place, to call it home earnestly, just to neglect it in favor of running off to another obligation. It is important that I make this home perfect, a space where I can picture myself spending time, even though I rarely do. There must be a corner for my guitars, a dish for my rings, and a bowl for fruit on the counter. Above all, I want everything to have its place, I want everything to feel balanced and stable. I am the same way in relationships; I desire domesticity, a quick kiss goodbye, a mutual partaking in separate joy. There is an ease in loving someone like that, like a constant in an equation of many variables. The act of making a home has similar contours, an assuredness that things will be how you left them when you return late in the evening, exhausted from a day spent away.
I’m headed home tomorrow. My time here has been endlessly gratifying, joyful, serendipitous, exciting. When I first bought these tickets to Primavera, almost exactly a year ago, I honestly thought that the festival would get postponed again; the idea of a gathering so large was inconceivable at the time. While I knew that I would have an excellent, even transformational time at the many, many shows I attended, I didn’t imagine that I would feel almost more grateful for the people around me, that the memory of my friends singing in a crowd would transcend that of the actual performance.
Reflecting on this trip, I’m realizing that it has been a first in many ways: first time in Spain, first time at a big music festival, first time abroad since the pandemic, first time traveling alone without someone to meet me on the other side, first time managing the logistics of a trip entirely on my own. Only the first bit was so drastically novel, but even the transitions were rife with navigable but unfamiliar experiences. The quick succession of spending the first week alone, then jetting off to family in France, then returning to Spain to meet friends induced more whiplash than I thought it might; being solo again this morning for the first time in five days, I felt like I’d fallen between the couch cushions, helpless.
When I’m in one of these moods, restless and listless in turns, I’m especially grateful for songs like the ones on this playlist. I’m settled by mountain music, the sounds of guitars that just feel like walking around in the woods behind my house. Many times in the past two weeks, I’ve felt transported by music, I’ve leaned into the intensity of a bass line that I can feel with my chest or a line screamed by fans around me. Now, I’m trying to go home by putting on my headphones and closing my eyes.
This concept of home has come up a lot for me in my time here. I’ve been thinking about how you can make a home of people that you love—they are the walls and the doors and the roof. In a related thread unspooling itself slowly in my mind, I’ve been thinking about my uncle, who is not really my uncle but my mom’s best friend, who has made a home for himself in a foreign country built of history and chosen family. I’ve been dreaming about my physical home, walking through the rooms aimlessly, counting the objects and all the people and love that has passed through it. I went to the sea yesterday and thought about my mom, and how she finds a home in every ocean she swims in, how I feel that I can find her there no matter how far apart we are. I’ve been considering the possibility of living in Europe at some point, as I always do when I visit here, of shaping myself into my own home. I’ve been thinking about this Mountain Goats lyric from “Riches and Wonders:”
I am healthy, I am whole
But I have poor impulse control
And I want to go home
But I am home
The most recent Arcade Fire record’s standout title track, “WE,” touches on relevant themes of collective knowing and community:
I wanna give up
I wanna give down
Wanna give away everything in my hometownAlready know I
I wanna know we
Would you want to get off this ride with me?
I’ve been thinking about Big Thief, their recent announcement and subsequent cancellation of two shows in Israel. They explained in the initial post that they wanted to play there because Max is from Tel Aviv, after years of touring extensively in the other three members’ hometowns. They explicitly addressed the BDS Movement, albeit clumsily, and promised to donate all profits from these shows to humanitarian organizations aiding Palestinian children.
The backlash was brutal. Fans said they would never listen to Big Thief again, said the band was on the wrong side of history, said that the choice was made in bad faith. The commentary was vitriolic, cruel, and relentless. People whose analysis I usually trust were acting like they were waging a war on the Internet on behalf of the Palestinian people, calling anyone even remotely defending the band Zionists. I think that Big Thief is in a very difficult position; what if Max’s family and friends have never seen him play? Hometown shows are special, and after years of avoiding Israel, I could imagine wanting to fulfill that dream.
Furthermore, people are not their governments—I should hope not, being from the United States. At the risk of making a tired argument, I think it’s important to consider the palpable rather than the symbolic effect of their decision; I am highly doubtful that a very good but still rather obscure indie band playing two nights in Tel Aviv would halt the systematic oppression and genocide of Palestinians by the Israeli military. Cultural boycotts are notably controversial, a form of punishment that retaliates against citizens rather than lawmakers. In some ways, wouldn’t the monetary aid of profits from these shows be more materially impactful than the symbolic solidarity of the boycott? And why is this indie band suddenly personally responsible for the outcome of this decades-long struggle?
I agree that Big Thief fumbled the delivery of their initial message about the moral and political implications of the decision. Their statement left too much room for interpretation in a political climate willing to behead anyone for a misstep, and was frankly rather lacking in content. They were naive to not realize that they were going to get attacked for this decision, and didn’t do themselves any favors by failing to appease the mob with the verbiage that’s become standard around discussions of Israel-Palestine. It was unwise to not express support for the Free Palestine movement and use terms like genocide, systemic oppression, ethnic cleansing, and apartheid.
But what I found actually disappointing was the way that people refused to accept nuance in the situation, which does not necessarily imply nuance in the morality of the oppression of the Palestinian people. The instantaneous fury that erupted in the comments section of their post coalesced into very few rational points arguing against playing in Israel. Nearly everything I read extrapolated the band’s politics from their statement and accused them of supporting genocide. Max can’t help being born in Israel, and I would hope that everyone can recognize the validity of his struggle to reconcile his life as a musician in the larger context of Israel and everything it represents. Is it possible to condemn the Israeli government and also want to play your hometown? I think so.
This news broke while I was at the festival, and I scrolled through the hell-scape of my Twitter feed while I was waiting for a set to start at two in the morning. The Internet is a disease, and the way that we all talk to each other due to its influence is horrifying. The announcement may have been misguided, but the desire to share your home with your closest friends is not.
This looks like it’s been the trip of a lifetime. Thanks for bringing us along.
I agree 100% on Big Thief. This performative uproar is exhibit A on everything wrong with social media and the narrow orthodoxy it breeds. No nuance, all hot takes. Life’s rarely that binary.
I'm so happy you wrote this. Safe travels.