Watching My Heroes Sell A Car On TV: Reflecting on 10 Years with My Chemical Romance

Our story starts on January 1st, 2016. 

I am 9 years old, starring in disbelief as my now-13-year-old-sister dances around our uncomfortably new living room. She's on a call with her best friend she hasn't seen in months on an her janky iPod touch, and they're singing along to this weird song she's got playing on the TV. I had started listening to Set It off, Marianna's Trench, and Melanie Martinez at this point, but other than those three my tastes were firmly rooted in mainstream pop available on the radio, so I just didn't know what to make of what I was hearing at all. 

I didn't know much about musicals and I really didn't know what Emo was aside from some "depictions" in cartoons, but with red lyrics on a black background playing with this kind of music, I had no choice but to infer that this was a song from some weird emo musical movie for teens. I want to go to bed but I can't, and she keeps singing the song over, and over, and over again.

I said I hated it that night, but for the next 6 months, that same chorus was stuck in my head. I would censor it, of course, swearing was bad and I was a fucking great kid. But it remained in my head, looping constantly the second I stopped listening to something else or just had a moment of boredom to myself.

Sometime in the following summer, after my older sister had begun to exit her "weird emo phase" as she called it, I finally Googled the song based on the few lyrics I remember and found "Teenagers" by My Chemical Romance on YouTube. I remember listening to the song and having my jaw drop for the first time in pure awe over the song and video.

10 years later, I still feel that amazement, but it's so much more complicated and heavier than it used to be.

My Chemical Romance influenced me more than anything else in my life growing up. Without a doubt, since the moment I listened to them properly, they had become my favourite band. Their music allowed me to carve a space out for me to be this weird brown queer kid who didn't match up to anyone's expectations for me. I watched Life On The Murder Scene religiously, having it memorised but still tearing up on every watch. I put on the My Chemical Fancast every day in the eigth grade just to hear the stories behind the songs or stories other fans had related to their music. Due to MCR's influence, I took drawing more seriously, I wrote more in my spare time, I wore fingerless skeleton gloves everywhere no matter how many looks I got, and listened to the Misfits and the Smiths and Bowie and Smashing Pumpkins because they opened the door for me to do so

I will always appreciate the intense impact their music and messaging had on me growing up over the last 10 years, but it's impossible to act like the relationship I have with them and their music is still as pure as I want it to be. The world has changed significantly in the last few years alone, let alone the last 10. The longer I cling to the image of them I held in my head, the harder it is to grow, so it's time to reflect on what exactly has changed.

Originally, this was just supposed to be a piece talking about how I re-listened to The Black Parade again recently and not only did it still hold up, but I could track my own personal history with music through all the things that I noticed on the listen. However, the more I wrote, the more I noticed a slight dissonance between me praising the band that made the album and some of my own internal critiques of the band that I was ignoring. In between edits, I watched a recent Elliot Sang bonus video about self reflection and outgrowing public figures you admire and it became a bit too difficult to ignore. I think I've begun to outgrow my favourite band and understand they no longer align with my values beyond what the surface level may suggest

They're such a huge part of my identity, everyone I know associates me with this band, but I can't keep closing my eyes to every disappointing action they do, nor can I keep being so invested in a band I lack faith in. Between the horrific pricing of their shows due to how they've opted into dynamic pricing, to horrific pricing and timing of merchandise sales, to a lack of any statement or action on the genocide of Palestine, to the weird decisions surrounding the Danger Days deluxe release that leave it feeling cold and impersonal, there's a lot to be critical of regarding the band in recent years for me, especially because of how important these issues are for me. It's made even more ironic that their incredible theatrical live show critiques capitalism and authoritarian governments symbolically and yet it costs an arm and a leg to get to and is about as far as they're realistically going to go with their messaging. I haven't been to the tour, but everything I've seen has been fantastically put together, yet it feels almost empty in context. 

Artists I love like Robert Smith and Hayley Williams have been very openly critical of dynamic pricing and have also shown that there are artists out there who care to be vocal about issues plaguing our modern life, both in music and in action. I never expected MCR to be the most politically outspoken band, but its disheartening to see just how comfortable this band has gotten. It's naive to assume with everything we know about how dynamic pricing works and how intense the support for their tours have been that they aren't aware on some level of what their doing. I've seen fans critique MCR's pricing and "cash grabby" tendencies while also saying they did fold and buy tickets that cost a kidney for the nosebleeds because "what if they never get the chance again." Never mind the fact that they've been reunited longer than they were broken up, the scarcity of their touring is felt throughout the fans who are desperate to see the band that changed their life. This included me for a long time, I would've gone in a heartbeat if I could justify the costs, but it all just leaves such a sour taste in my throat.

The economy in Ontario is real shit right now, the politics through out the west is a hellscape, and the global atrocities taking place are nothing short of harrowing. My values and beliefs have sharpened with age, but in that time it seems like My Chemical Romance has elevated further and further into the clouds. 

I spend my days reading about how Doug Ford's living comfortably as he ruins OSAP and defunds our emergency firefighters, only aiding in the devastating wildfires ransacking the province. I get to class and wonder if I'll even be able to afford graduating, if I'll even be able to get a job in the city, if i'll be able to provide for my parents if I do and still have enough for a single meal. I get home and help my elderly father, whose legs are breaking just trying to provide for our family from his minimum wage job, get to bed. My friends text me about how they're at risk of losing their families or education because of their queerness, disability, or financial strain. Immediately after I see My Chemical Romance has finally posted something, and its that they put up tickets for their big new tour, and the cheapest ones are hundreds of dollars already.

It just feels a bit ridiculous for me specifically to be doing mental gymnastics in my mind just to justify the emotional investment I still have in them.

In the comments of any and every post related to the band, the lyrics "I spent my high school career / spit on a shoved to agree / so I could watch all my heroes / sell a car on TV"  from their song "Disenchanted" is referenced in response to their actions, and though it's become incredibly repetitive, it rings scarily true for me. It was my favourite song on the Black Parade for years, I listened to it constantly but never once imagined the heroes to be MCR themselves, yet here we are.

I understand that we shouldn't expect incredible politics from a bunch of "legacy" millionaire musicians, but to have your entire tour thematically be against fascism and capitalism and not comment on anything outside of the show that is incredibly inaccessible to reach is just absurd. Not every musician needs to be an activist, but I personally realize I would rather be listening to and supporting artists who can make art about their views but also won't shy away from actually talking about things, human to human, and actually living by their views. I still imagine MCR as 4 poor punk dudes in 2003 touring the world from a shitty a van, but its been a very long time since that image was accurate, and I gotta stop acting like it hasn't been.

I'll always love their music, but it's time to shift away from the attachment I have to them and invest my energy to music and art I actually can align with and actions that actually align with my values. It doesn't just stop with My Chem either, I've really gotta re-evaluate what bands/musicians I hold on an internal pedestal and whether the expectations for this parasocial relationship are even justifiable. Growing up as a big fan of rock music, I always was a fan of talented musicians that  had done really questionable things to the point where as a young desi queer kid I was very glad I wasn't in a room with any of them, but I feel like in recent years I have forgotten to remember that fact and it's certainly worth thinking about again. I'll happily tell you that Paul McCartney is my favourite Beatle and I admire his contributions to pop music as a whole but he's still a billionaire who has lived very luxuriously for over 60 years so my admirations and investment firmly end there. 

In the face of this slow personal divestment from these huge acts, I have been been increasingly involved with the Toronto punk/alt scene, even doing design work for some bands whenever I can, and going to shows whenever I humanly have the chance. Trashwyre, Heavenly Blue, Rellana, Ceippo, the Neverminds, and White Rabbit are all so incredible to see, whether if it's in the basement of a bar or someone's cramped living room. I would rather go see any of those bands than honestly even go to a bigger concert. I could be putting my wallet and time towards anything, I would much rather give it back to musicians I actually see and can respect on a personal level. 

This isn't meant to be a hate post towards the band, once again I still love their music and will always hold it to a very close place in my heart, I don't think I'm too good for them or something like that. This also isn't meant to be judgemental to anyone who disagrees, this is just my own personal reflections. I don't see a future where I continue to hold them up as a great amazing band I admire while also staying true to my beliefs and views on their actions. Self reflecting is good actually, especially when music is involved, and I am just trying to keep in check regarding blatant contradictions in what I claim to value and what I actively support. I am not continuing to stan for scraps of political awareness when my attention can simply go elsewhere and support other things. 

A basic realization 10 years in the making, but better late than never.

- CD

"Ram On": Paul McCartney and Staying Whimsical Through The Horrors

I recently saw a Letterboxd review of the Beatles documentary, Get Back, that said something along the lines of "your favourite Beatle picks you and that's just how it is." While they were talking about John Lennon, for me that more than applies to Paul McCartney and how much his career and music and life has surprisingly resonated with me. I used to brush him off as nothing more than a prissy old rich man who's never had a hard day in his life, and while there's definetely truth to that, in recent months he's quickly been one of the musicians I resonate with the most.

A couple days ago after writing my last blog post, I was feeling really emotionally heavy as I ended up going in a much darker direction than even I anticipated. It was 10:30, I thought some food might be a good pick-me-up, so I grabbed a frozen chicken patty and some slightly stale bread and made the world's shittiest late night sandwich. I was playing some music hoping it would lighten the mood a bit.

Midway through, I froze. The song "Let It Be" had started playing and it occurred to me that I hadn't heard the song in years (hated it as a kid) and never actually heard the full studio recording. Under the flickering light of my kitchen, my heart started pounding to the beat of the song and I thought it would beat out of my chest. Paul's vocals were a warm hug I had been craving, starving for even. I had never listened long enough to hear the guitar solo, so getting to that point was enough for the song to rip through me and break the dam that was building up for weeks.

I crumpled to my knees and just cried. Then I started to laugh. Who the hell actually gets an emotional reaction out of a song that old and generic? Me, apparently.

Just last night I broke down again at the hopelessness and isolation that I felt was seeping into my life again. A decades long battle with depression makes this a common enough occurrence. I felt numb and miserable and even more numb and miserable at the fact that I was. I put music on hoping for it to be a somber relaxing song, only to put on the wrong playlist and get hit with "All My Loving" which led to a shock that for a moment shook me out of my drowning apathy completely. I let the song play and the charming simplicity of it all soothed me until I fell asleep.

Paul McCartney's song always tend to be like that, I overlooked them throughout my childhood for their simplicity and almost naive simplicity especially compared to John Lennon or George Harrison Songs, yet even as a kid it was always his music that provided the strongest amount of comfort for me. It parallels a lot of my own journey with my own identity and personality.

I was always known to be very naive. A radical sense of hope in the future, a terrible sense of social cues, and an overly friendly disposition was a recipe for disaster in elementary and secondary school. I can count more close friends that manipulated and/or bullied me blatantly than I can count ones that didn't. I needed roughly 8 close friends telling me my ex was a manipulative piece of shit before I finally blocked him for good a couple weeks ago. It's been a lifelong struggle seemingly being far too naive for my own good and immediately jumping back to that, and it's affected how I view myself or how I perceive the way I'm perceived.

I try to be very careful on how I come across, overly aware of my presence thanks to the way my parents taught me to navigate interactions with our vast extended family and also having to completely change my personality around my parents. I know immediately when I'm being infantilized by others (I'm neurodivergent, very short, very "joyous," and transgender so another recipe for disaster) and when I'm being looked down upon or being "too much" and it's forced me to be so much more guarded about being seen as immature or "childish," even when I feel there's nothing wrong with it. I force a laidback appearance, a guarded mask of that same friendliness and over optimism but in a controlled and distant way that was laced in just enough cold cynicism to be taken seriously.

I just doubled down on a harsher edge to whatever softness I had. I was always present and joking around, but very rarely showed the truth of things unless it was an over the top performance of it. It slowly has faded in university, but not fully. I drowned myself in the music I listened to, and rejected anything internally that felt too close to home. To care so deeply was too vulnerable and time and time again it has led to pain and suffering so I try to be so careful in who gets to see the truth, and even then I choose wrong because I can't help but let myself be walked on in the name of good intentions.

Then came the Beatles hyperfixation I've had this year.

Paul McCartney and his granny music, his knit sweaters, his overly optimistic view of the world, his extreme dedication and curiosity to his craft regardless of if it panned out in the end. He was always aware of how he's presented in universities, closed off to the world but always putting his kindest foot forward and always spoke earnestly in every song or story he had.

I wished I could say I was most drawn to George Harrison's music and demeanour, or the soft silliness of Ringo Star, or even the complex glass onion that is John Lennon, but no matter how much I am fascinated by those three and their careers, it was always going to be Paul McCartney.

From "Hey Jude" being the first and only Beatles song to actually bring me to tears as a tween, to watching the movie Yellow Submarine while babysitting my cousins' kids and being stunned into silence as I heard "Eleanor Rigby" for the first time, McCartney's songs have always reached inwards to my core and saw me truly in ways I struggle to ever show without fear or shame anymore. These pieces of whimsical joy feel so opposite to any other musician I loved or was drawn to, and yet they help the most.

On the surface, he still felt like an anomaly. My biggest inspirations growing up were Gerard Way, Hayley Williams, Vic Fuentes, and even Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun of Twenty One Pilots. They got me through the darkest times of my life, pushed me towards to stay alive explicitly, as they never shyied away from the horrors of mental health and in Hayley Williams' case, modern politics in an increasingly terrifying world. They were authentic, they were alternative, they showed it was okay to do something different and not follow the path laid out for me but instead carve my own way by being myself, even if I couldn't always believe it.

Paul McCartney should be the opposite, but for me he's honestly fueled the same thing. Looking at his time in the Beatles or in Wings or as a solo artist and seeing how much of his career was followed by periods of conflict and struggles and yet he kept pushing and making music he wanted to make even if nobody else did. He forced take after take on songs like "Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da" because he saw something there, even if nobody else did and it was even considered by many to be the worst song ever written (including younger me solely because I had to listen to it for hours on repeat during an 8 hour road trip). It doesn't matter if it was cool or succeeded, he followed his own vision. I love the entirety of Ram so much for similar reasons. The album is wacky and experimental by his standards, coming out at such an intense time for the ex-Beatles, and it pulls no punches, absolutely wholeheartedly earnest and incredible from start to finish. Paul always seemed to show his creativity fully in the music, a radical "yes" in an age of apathy. He has a backbone though, he has a true confidence that comes from being fucking Paul McCartney, and that just made him even more aspirational to me.

A few years ago I would've laughed at the idea of openly singing along to his music during troubling times or full on depressive episodes, it would've made me really feel like nothing more than the naive child people seemed to think I was, but it was him and his infectiously catchy songs and earnestly open lyrics that have pulled me out of what has otherwise been a pretty miserable time. It was his music that brings me out of the dark put and reminds me how to enjoy life. I want to doodle on my work again, I want to wear flowery clothes and smile, I want to talk to older strangers while running errands, and I want to believe things will be okay even when it never seems like it will be. 

I went to my local pride parade today, all on my own though because my friends had to cancel for work or still being off on family vacations. I was feeling dull after last night, wanted to do nothing else but continue to waste away in my room, but I had "All My Loving" stuck in my head and a video on Paul McCartney's time in Wings on and so somehow that was enough to force me to try. I got dressed and went downtown, sat on a small bench and quietly waited for the parade to start. I was joined by a middle aged cis gay man who was stopping by before going back to his mother and a 80 year old woman who "wasn't of the lifestyle" but was stopping by after church to see her daughter who was the president running the whole event. I was quieter than I might've been otherwise, but I sat with them and heard their stories of this town and their family while the parade went by. It was really nice, it didn't change my life forever, but ut was nice enough to lighten the weight on my shoulders.

I'm not trying to compare myself to one of the greatest songwriters in pop music history, but I can't help but see fragments of myself in Paul McCartney and that alone is comforting and inspiring even when nothing else is. Through his artistic perseverance and softhearted songs, I have relearned the act of staying open and whimsical through even the most horrific of times. Listening to "Tug Of War" in my local cafe, reminiscing on past friends and motivation, but feeling like everything will be okay. 

 

"Grow Old With Me" by John Lennon: The One Song I Can't Ever Finish

Major trigger warning for discussions of death, murder, and suicide. All very in depth.

I've been hyperfixated on the Beatles for some time now, and it's been really delightful time for the most part.

Like most people especially around my age, I had a vague awareness of the Beatles growing up."Imagine" by John Lennon played every year during Remembrance Day assemblies in elementary school. I knew "Hey Jude" and "Here Comes The Sun" before I could even conceptualise what the 1960s were. I was once on a road trip with some relatives for like 8 hours where the song "Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da" played seemingly on loop and in my kid brain it felt like torture. I didn't realize that last song was the Beatles until a month ago but the point stands.

My parents weren't big on music at all and in fact shunned me being so passionate for it until recently. Nobody really taught me anything about The Beatles unless I dug for myself and that happened over the course of the last few years, but really not much until this year. I didn't take them seriously in any way as a relevant band until I heard "I Want You (She's So heavy)" and "Eleanor Rigby" when I was 16. This fact is even crazier to me because my favourite album in middle school was Panic! At The Disco's "Pretty. Odd." which only exists because the band discovered the Beatles and 60s/70s rock music but that's neither here nor there.

Before hearing the heavy drudged up guitars on "She's So Heavy" or the somber seriousness of "Eleanor Rigby," I thought the Beatles were nothing more than boring old music that may have been cool at the time but were shallow and about shallow things.

My perception of the Beatles themselves didn't help. Paul McCartney was just some old annoying rich ex-rockstar, Ringo Star was the jokey funny Beatle, George Harrison barely existed in my mind, and John Lennon was dead but first made 2 songs that were shitty ways to bring people together and he also beat his wife. That's all they were to me and all I cared to know about. 

While rooted in some truth and it's easy to trace back where these perceptions came from, the deeper I go into their discographies and into their histories, the more complex each of them get for me. All are three dimensional, heavily flawed, severely British men who made some interesting music.

Yet then there's still more that gets me about John Lennon.

While every Beatle is now understood pretty commonly to be pretty shitty and have done terrible things, John Lennon's reputation is so beyond that in my eyes. He died first after a quiet period in his life so while the other three were able to live on and clean up their reputations and legacies with age, what the world has left is just Lennon at his most extreme. A martyr for his beliefs, an abuser to his first wife and son, a loving husband and father to his second, an activist for love and world peace, a violent young man riddled with grief, a Beatle who changed the world, and a musician who got lucky and took all the credit for change. 

More than any other Beatle, it seems to me that John Lennon fully becomes the fading photographs and newspaper clippings left for people to obsess over, even if that's what he never wanted in the first place. Always seemingly first to share his own mistakes and god awful actions, not taking away from how terrible they were (I mean everything that happened during the White Album alone is terrible let alone the mess before and after) but open to note he wasn't ever perfect and he didn't think anyone should view him that way. He became a caricature of himself in the public eye after dying but in his post-Beatle years, he seemingly just wanted to be John, the regular imperfect guy, at least from what I've gathered.

I try really hard to view him as such when I listen to his music, and honestly it's not hard to do since I disliked him so much growing up and my favourite Beatle is actually Paul McCartney (will probably write about that later), but in viewing him as a troubled man who made some great music, I find myself resonating with his music a bit more. In doing so, his death starts to hit not just because of what it is but also because of what I am forced to face back.

When John Lennon was shot, he wanted to turn his life around. He had spent years in domestic bliss, he was going to return to music, and be better. He was shot before any of that could come to fruition. While he did live for 40 years, now Paul and Ringo have both lived twice as long as that. His death became a gaping hole in their lives and careers for decades.

I am very lucky to say that aside from a couple grandparents I was never very close to, I never fully had to grieve a loved one. There were many close cases though. Almost every close friend of mine growing up ( were extraordinarily depressed and suicidal (including myself, more on that in a different post). Many still are. In grade 12 alone, 2 of my closest friends attempted suicide and I only learned well after the fact in the surrounding weeks and months. One told me in a casual conversation about their toxic relationship and the other after his quiet return from a week away in the psych ward. The first friend and I fell out due to their erratic and increasingly manipulative behaviour worsened by their mental health issues that was taking a large toll on my life, the other remains like a brother to me and I see firsthand how he's lived and grown. Both keep me up at night thinking about, fearing the day I wake up to a horrific phone call and a gaping hole in my chest. They weren't the first or the last to get close, and I'm only 19. 

There are many songs in the Beatles' solo discographies that make me reflect on this fear of sudden death, most notably Paul McCartney's song "Here Today" which was written after Lennon's death. It's a final conversation and reflection of their entire relationship, and it breaks me to listen to every single time. It's my favourite song he's ever made and though the circumstances of John Lennon's death are very different than the potential suicide of many Canadian teenagers, the song forces me to realize that as much as I wish I will never have to relate to this song, it's always a non-zero chance I will.

It's for all of these reasons that listening to "Grow Old With Me" by John Lennon is a task I will never be able to accomplish. 

I discovered the song very recently. Before this fixation, the only solo songs by any ex-Beatle I knew were the two Lennon songs from school assemblies and the Glee cover of Silly Love Songs. Its been exciting for the most part to dive into what they did after the 60s and gave me a deeper appreciation for the band. I simply added a few Lennon songs to my monthly playlist and let it play on shuffle. 

This song played and hit me like a gut punch.

A slower lo-fi home demo recording of a song where John Lennon softly asks for his wife, Yoko Ono, to grow old along with him, stating that the best is yet to come and he wants to live alongside her. It's never a question on whether or not he will grow old, the only unsureness is if she joins him. The cruel ironic joke fate had played is that this song was only released on their joint album after his death. He died as a 40 year old man while Yoko was in fact forced to grow old without him. 

The context that weighs around the track is heavy and thick, a tense air I can't breathe in. I listen to the song and feel as though I'm watching an intimate moment I was never supposed to see. A domestic memory drowning in surrounding ironic tragedy, impossible to divorce from circumstance. It sounds the most raw and authentic and human I've heard Lennon be so far and it makes me feel nauseous. In this song he truly just becomes a man who loves his wife, and died before he could go through with it. He died prematurely with so much left to do and it leaves this song with such a haunted hollow feeling. The song is barely three minutes and I have yet to get past the first.

I can't help but think of the friends I nearly lost, the friends I soon may still. I wouldn't know how to even prepare to grieve if I had to, feeling loss with my last grandmother's passing a bit but even that was more based on the potential relationship we might've had than the one we actually had. Something about this small homely song cracks me open and forces me to reckon with how potentially terrifying it may be. I am so scared not of death but of it prematurely taking anyone right now. I know I'm more unstable than I would like to be but I've been trying so hard to be better and my friends are fighting valiantly to stay alive. I believe so thoroughly that we'll all make it to 86 at least that I hate even considering something alternative happening yet when I hear "Grow Old With Me" I picture them all and remember how temporary life is. One moment you're wishing to grow old together, imagining a future years down the road, and the next it's over.

Did I say "I love you" enough to my loved ones? Does my father know how much I appreciate his efforts to keep this house afloat? Does my best friend realize the amount of joy and love they bring into my life? Will I be riddled with regrets on my death bed? Will I be left writing songs haunted by what never was? I don't know. I'll do whatever I can every day to make it enough but I'm never sure it is. "Grow Old With Me" haunts me and mocks me while I try.

It's such a short and simple beautiful song. He was just a person that existed decades before I was born. I hate defining John Lennon by his death and understand in a way I am doing that here but I can't help the dread that fills when I hear this song with the context in mind. What a terrifying thing it is to be alive.

I don't know what to do with all of this potential grief and fear but I suppose what I can do for now is just live my best and continue to show love and support to everyone I love and care for. I don't if I can even try anything else. Nothing has changed any of the impending doom I feel or the mental wellbeing of my closest companions, but I feel more at ease writing this out which is a start, I suppose. Maybe one day I'll be able to listen to this song and have it feel real and genuine instead of cruel irony or a tortured memory. 

All I can really do is hope.

Big Plunge by White Rabbit Will Always Hit Close To Home

Its May of 2023. We zoom in on a generic catholic secondary school in an even more generic town within the greater Toronto area. I am 16 years old (in grade 11) and immensely terrified of my entire past, present, and future. 

I want to escape from the small bubble of cookie cutter suburbia but the idea of my entire future being just a few months and an OUAC application away scares the shit out of me, so I drown it out with my headphones blasting House Of Sugar by Alex G and continue with my dull routine. I took the back entrance of the building to get to class, and on the door I saw printed black and white flyer. I didn't know it, but finding this would change my life completely for the next 3 years at least.

The flyer was for a "free hardcore/punk/shoegaze show" happening at the park near the library down the road that coming Saturday night. Three bands were billed: Julien's Donkey Boys, Mule King, and White Rabbit. I had been to a couple concerts at this point but never to a local show before, no matter how badly I had wanted to. My parents would never allow it in my mind and the transportation and money to make it work was a lot to beg for. These were my favourite genres at the time, and the scribbled and scanned drawing called for me, so I threw all logic away and took a picture before running to class.

By some miracle despite their hatred for my intense passion of music, I went to the show with a friend I hardly knew. After listening to everything I could find of the three bands online, I got to the park way too early, made embarrassingly awkward small talk with the lead singer of White Rabbit about post punk, and didn't know what to do with my hands so I just recorded every set until I felt comfortable enough to move my limbs.

Despite all of this, this is one of the fondest memories I have and I wouldn't change it for the world.

I left that night with a sense of comfortable community I hadn't ever felt before and the last Mule King T-Shirt of the night (which I still own and wear often). There was a electricity running through my veins. While every band was fantastic to watch that night, something about White Rabbit cracked me open. Maybe it was the knowledge that the two members, Ben Miles and Sabrina Perez, were around my age and went to the other big secondary school that was hitting me. Maybe it was just that I was really into shoegaze at the time so they stuck out more. Maybe it was just that debut EP, Zzz, was noisy-melodic perfection to me, even if it was still rough around the edges. Whatever it was, I became heavily invested in their music. I listened to Zzz and their second 4 track EP, Just A Little Bit, constantly.

They became the soundtrack to the later part of my teens. Screaming along to songs like "Don't Mean Harm" or "Stew" in my bedroom became my best source of catharsis, while "Zzz " and "Stardust" allowed me around the oversaturated summer streets of my hometown dazed and unafraid, just letting the sharp twinkly guitars wash away all my many worries. The songs had a specificity to the teen angst, love desperation, and annoyance, that aligned perfectly with events in my own life. It was a match made in heaven for me. They were also a reminder that no matter how much I loathed my hometown at the time, beauty and talent still resided in it. They were so close to home, it was impossible not to root for them from afar.

The next time I saw the band live, my life was seemingly entirely different. I had made it out of my hometown (temporarily) because I graduated, now going to university in Toronto and was living in a dorm. I had a new set of friends, a new set of overconfidence, and for once I felt like I could breathe in air from outside a small bubble I was suffocating in.

On November 23rd, 2024, now 17 years old, I went to my first house venue show for White Rabbit's debut album, Big Plunge. This show would be the first of many more It's an event I refused to miss, so I dragged whatever friend was willing to join me out to a small shack downtown to experience it all with me. 

The night was nothing short of incredible. The band (performing as a trio at the time, though only Ben Miles and Sabrina Perez are credited on the album) had grown in confidence playing and showmanship significantly, a maturity in their playing that must've just come from age. I had left my hometown to escape from the mundanity, I had gone to the show to escape from my worries into music, and while that very successfully occurred, the songs off of Big Plunge seemed to transport me back to the kid I was the year before in all the best ways. 

While the EPs were the soundtrack of my teen years, this album had captured the specific feeling of growing up there. "Do I Wanna Swim" evoked images of driving around town with friends just to have something to do during our spares. "Just Like This" was a nostalgic anthem for even the most mundane of recent memories for me. I listen to "Not Your Friend" and have flashbacks to trying to ignore ex-friends on my way to art class. "Now That The Dust Has Settled" was images of sitting in the floor of my childhood home and grieving the phase of my life I was leaving. While I'm sure it could apply to any bedroom community suburban town, the fact that they were from mine is what made it click harder. It had never happened before. To me, they were the first and only cool thing to come out of this bedroom community. Their music became a time capsule.

It was a bonus that the album is also really damn good.

At 8 tracks and only roughly 21 minutes, the album is brief but makes a strong statement. Miles and Perez balance the rougher edges of their music with the soft melodic shine on every song in a constantly shifting sliding scale. The music, the lyrics, and the meanings are always in sync, the vocal deliveries of both members are both so fantastic. The overall desperate feeling in the performance of "Now That The Dust Has Settled" makes it such a perfect closer and a great contrast to the softer tip toeing of "Do I Wanna Swim" on the opener. There isn't a single section on any song here that overstays it's welcome. Not a single element feels out of place, overdone, or generic. Every song relates to each other really well but all stand out and stand on their own. My personal favourites are "Play Fair,"  "Electrical," and "Now That The Dust Has Settled," but every song here has a great argument for being the favourite so that list changes frequently. There are parts where lyrically, they almost lean too far into a childish naivety in the lyrics of songs like "Just Like This" or "Not Your Friend" for me, but the vocal delivery paired with the incredibly playful guitars and hammering drums just sell the emotion so authentically. This album is the best most nostalgic parts of being a teenager for me and delivers well on all fronts.

By the third time I saw the band play on April 12th 2025, I knew in my soul they were going to be one of the biggest bands to come out of this scene. I was 18 now, my music taste had expanded far past the reaches of what I could ever imagine, and it only further confirmed how much skill these two had as performers and storytellers through their music. They were playing as a four piece, the songs sounder stronger than any of the recordings, and even despite some technical difficulties, they carried on and created a great atmosphere with their music. They all play these songs like they're trying to inject the sound into you, precise and powerful, full of passion and emotion through noisy pedals and soaring vocals.

Its now 2026 and White Rabbit are playing so many shows everywhere across the GTA and Toronto, including the Loveless Festival on July 26th. In a recent interview White Rabbit did with Around The Corner Radio, they discussed working on more music that I'm more excited for than any other release. White Rabbit has only improved in their capabilities with every EP, Album, and live show. This band is brimming with potential and I already know this is only a fraction of the beginning for what they can do.

For now, Big Plunge along with Zzz and Just A Little Bit are available on all streaming services including Band Camp. Please go and listen to the album at least, lying down in the grass on a nice summer day (if we even get one anywhere in the world this year) and let White Rabbit's music hit you back home. If not them, then please look around your hometown and support the incredible artists around you. Sometimes the band whose music will define an era of your life is composed by a bunch of teenagers that go to the next school over from you.

CD Discovered Classic Rock and Now Sees Himself in Syd Barret's Eyes

TW; mentions of suicide, self harm, mental illness struggles, and general talk of death. coming back with a dark one

A lot has happened in the last few months. 

I finally broke up with my lowkey shitty boyfriend, my design "career" has slowly expanded to freelance work for local bands and potentially work for my cousin's short films, and in June I got absolutely obsessed with The Beatles (and still am) thanks to a Rock Music History summer course, Elliot Roberts' youtube channel (specifically the amazing long videos ranking/analyzing the Beatles' solo careers) and a youtube series by Abigail Devoe called Vinyl Monday. (This isn't about the Beatles though, they'll get their post later.)

Vinyl Monday has been my biggest obsession since I found it. Abigail gives the in depth history of albums she has in her vinyl collection along with analysis and review of the music, mostly focusing on the 60s and 70s but also occasionally expanding to albums from the 80s, 90s, 2000s, and even 2010s (shoutout the video on AM by Arctic Monkeys). They're incredibly well written and researched, you can feel the passion and respect she has for all kinds of music in every single video. While not a Vinyl Monday episode, her video on her history and love for The Mountain Goats, one of my favourite bands in high school, inspired me so much I got the motivation to actually lock into my creative work and even try to pick this blog up again.

I've been listening to more albums in full than ever before, and watching her videos alongside them for extra context and history. I'll watch videos on albums I know better than some of my childhood friends (The Velvet Underground Self Titled, Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys, Live Through This by Hole), or sometimes I'll watch her videos on albums I know nothing about just to learn more about strangers from different pockets of time (Goodbye and Hello by Tim Buckley, Tommy by The Who, Head by The Monkees). It started with the Beatles and grew into a fascination with these questionable strange people and their music that has somehow survived for generations to pick apart

Which brings us to Pink Floyd.

For context, I am the child of Pakistani immigrants who were born in the 60s. My dad was born in 1961, my mother in 1969. They got married in the year 2000, my dad already had lived in both Paris and LA but that was my mother's first time leaving Pakistan and she had no interest (and still doesn't) with Western music and media (except the Lion King, she loves that movie.) My dad was a different story. He left home as soon as he could, he hung around record stores in the late 60s and the 70s seeing all the music that was shipped over as soon as he could. When he reached his 20s, he dropped listening to music entirely for religious and cultural reasons, but deep down he still had a love for songs like "Hotel California" by Eagles or "Buffalo Soldier" by Bob Marley. He didn't express that love with me until very recently. My family was very against how much music I loved and listened to and that just fueled my passion for everything even more.

For nearly 20 years, I only discovered music from older generations by chance or by my own curiosity. I listen to everything I can but unlike basically all of my music loving friends now, I didn't have anything passed down to me from my parents. The first time I listened to Pink Floyd was when I was 15 because I loved the song "Uncomfortably Numb" by American Football and learned the name was a reference, and the second time was when I was 17 because I was getting high with friends and someone recommended I listen to "Breathe (In The Air)" while stoned. That was the extent of my Pink Floyd knowledge and the limit for my curiosity on this band I heard so much buzz around while knowing absolutely nothing about. 

Yesterday, I decided to put on Abigail Devoe's videos on Pink Floyd, specifically the second video she did on The Piper At The Gates of Dawn, the video on Dark Side Of The Moon, and the video on Wish You Were Here in that order. I expected some interesting behind the scenes facts, learning a bit more on Roger Waters and the enigmatic Syd Barret I heard whispers about, and finally understanding the band a bit more to appreciate the music. I got all of that through these reviews and historical recollections, but I also found I resonated with what I was seeing from Syd Barret to a terrifying degree.

I did more reading into the timeline later, into what exactly went down, and into the music beyond what the videos had taught me, and the more I read the more familiar his story became. I knew and still know so many people I nearly physically or figuratively lost to their own mental health struggles. Suicide attempts in high school I only learned about later, fresh scars on hands I had to ignore, disassociation linked with familial pressure to conform, sharing repressed memories of abuse that had come back to the surface. It was terrifying but I was the same, and thankfully we made it through those dark years and are crawling our way through undergraduate degrees together, but you're never the same. I cry hearing stories of how friendly and playful I used to be, feel ashamed at the unabashed hope I had for the future before my mind adjusted so much to being broken. Something about Syd Barret brought me back to those stories. He was 22 when he left Pink Floyd, 24 when he released his solo music, and 29 during that haunting meeting with the band during the production of Wish You Were Here.

I'm almost 20 and I have to wonder how many friends I'll be grieving in the next few years despite being fully alive. Would I become that? Every year I lose more of that spark I desperately cling to in my childhood, when will I lose it completely? When will I become an unrecognizable stranger both in body and mind to people who once loved me like their brother? Its so easy to pretend that life will just work out and I'll get the life I dreamed of without trying, but it rarely is like that. I could die in the closet tomorrow or in 10 years from my own steadily deteriorating mental state as much as I could live another 50 full of colourful memories and open queerness. Both feel equally likely these days. I am only as well and as stable as I can be through sheer willpower, suppression, and a large fear of death. 

I'm not trying to compare my life or anyone I know 1:1 with Syd Barrett's life or trying to paint him as a tragic figure instead of just a person, but just dipping my toes into the pool of this history inspired all these thoughts. It was a cold reminder that I've already got so many struggles and so do many of my loved ones, and just because everyone is as fine as they can be today does not mean they'll be fully present like they are now forever. A reminder that I am still so young and grief is waiting in the wings for me. A reminder of how much can change in a few years and how much impact one can have in that time. 

Syd lived his life, he died at 60 in the same year I was born, he had the cards he was dealt and worked with it. I don't know him, barely know his story and music even now, and he's far more than the legacy he left behind. But even still I feel like whenever I look at a photo of him, either in the days of whimsical 60s rock bliss or as an older bald man avoiding the spotlight, I can't help but see my reflection looking back.

Does this set of rambles even make sense? I'm not sure. What I can say for sure is that I may not have ever expected Pink Floyd of all bands to strike such a chord with me but this is not a band I will be ignoring ever again.

Time to go re-listen to Wish You Were Here 1000 times or until my ears start bleeding.

-XO CD

CD Rambles: Stevie Wonder, Hayley Williams, and Putting In 110%

Recently, I finally got around to watching Mic The Snare's Deep Discog Dive for Stevie Wonder because while I've been aware of Stevie Wonder's legend status for years and loved so many of his songs growing up, I never delved into his full career in any real detail. I just casually put on the video thinking it would just be a fun background video but like with many DDD that Mic The Snare has made, I was deeply wrong and was fully captivated the whole time. 

Something about watching a detailed examination of the entire career of Stevie Wonder, the amount of talent he had ever since he was a kid, and most importantly the amount of effort he was either forced to put in or pushed himself to put in from start to now was incredible. It kind of broke something within me. I have so many projects I still need to do yet keep putting off for now real reason other than I just don't want to start. I was watching youtube when I knew very well I could've done one small step towards any of them.

Hayley Williams, one of my favourite musicians of all time, has been on tour for her phenomenal solo album Ego Death At A Bachelorette Party and everything she does, from the album itself to the marketing and promotion to the rollout to the tour itself. I've been getting clips constantly of the tour, and watching her pour her heart out every night vocally in beautifully crafted outfits and stage setups did a similar thing. She's been such a big example of what it means to put 110% into what you do. Whether it's politically or musically she always goes above and beyond. Another wake up call.

Two very different examples but watching both side to side and acknowledging why im in awe of both really just made me realize how little is stopping me from at least trying to the same degree they do. Granted, both are musicians that have been highly skilled in musical ability from a young age which certainly helped and Stevie Wonder is literally Stevie Wonder, I don't think there's a universe where I come close to that, BUT I feel like now more than ever in the face of AI based fears and algorithmic taste making, putting effort to curate and craft your life and skills is underappreciated. If that even makes sense.

I've already been more motivated to actually learn more guitar, work on vocals, finish design projects, and start actual process on my video game passion project I've wanted to fully start on this summer. Effort goes a long way, and despite being severely mentally ill and neurodivergent and stuck in a suffocating house, I think I forget how much agency I still have over my own actions and output.

We'll see how long this lasts, but for now the future is bright!

- XOCD

Introduction!

I'm not sure anyone's actually out there reading this except for my best friend (and reason I'm doing this) but in a way that's the most appealing part about it. Actual readers are just a bonus to the idea of an empty void to scream about music into.

I'm getting ahead of myself, where are my manners! An introduction is definitely in order:

Who the hell am I?

You can call me CD (he/they)! I'm a 19 year old graphic design student from the Toronto area who just really fucking loves music and art and the history that surrounds itl. I listen to all sorts of stuff from modern electronic hyperpop to rnb to classic punk to death metal, but 2000s emo and alt rock music has always been my bread and butter (at least for the past 11 years or so). I'm a queer south asian artist/designer with ADHD and yes I DO make it my whole personality so discussions of all of that are likely to seep into whatever I write.

Why am I here? 

I started this blog because I disliked social media and wanted to infodump into a void alongside my best friend who also started one. I soon realized I really did love writing about music and how it intersected with my life and the world around me, so I started a tumblr blog as well and refocused the blog to be centred on music. I just wanna talk about bands in a void that will actually listen!!

What is this place???

This is a little blog where I infodump about music, share my thoughts and experiences with albums/artists/songs I adore, and reflect on how its impacted my life or the lives of those around me. Maybe I'll include some reviews, and i'll definetely be highlighting local acts around me as well. The point is to practice writing and share my thoughts on music, so if that sounds fun for you I do hope you'll stick around!

With that said...

If you somehow got here without coming from my friend's blog, go check out their writings as well at https://shitboyshow.blogspot.com/ ! I'm excited to be on this blogging journey with you all and to talk about music and art and the state of the world with whoever is lurking in this grand void

Signing off at 1:09 am with a new hope for the future!

-CD