Mudroom — Tiny Habits
#365Songs: March 14th
Starting a band has always been an act of defiance, an escape from the normalized capitalistic path we’re brainwashed to follow. I love the garage band stories, the art school kids who find one another wallowing in their own artistic weirdness and come together to create something. Oftentimes it’s not good, but that seldom matters. It’s about making noise, creating a sound, entertaining each other if nobody else.
That’s the thing about being young, the dream of what’s possible. Risks are easier to take, life detours less destructive. Whether you dreamt of exhibiting in the MOMA, opening for Radiohead, winning the National Book Award, a Tony, or an Oscar, it all started with that first shot, note, word, monologue, or script. To me, there are few things more beautiful than seeing someone create anything at all.
But it’s harder now, and with AI it’s about to get a whole lot more difficult. When I was a young writer, I knew I was destined for literary awards, book tours, film adaptations. But when I finished undergrad, and then later graduated from a Master of Fine Arts program, I was met with a sobering industry: publishing had consolidated, fewer writers were getting published because fewer readers were reading, indie and university presses were shuttering, and the big houses were spitting out celebrity memoirs and genre fiction. I lost my will, I lost my love, and for a long time I gave up. Though I never lost my love for reading, or mentoring young writers, I abandoned my own desire to create anything at all. I can’t make up for lost time, but I do remember what drew me to words to begin with, and no matter how many years have passed the craft of writing begins again with that first word. That, too, is an act of defiance: against time, self-doubt, apathy, and culture’s expectation that art is a young kid’s game.
If I could do it all again, would I be more resilient, more defiant, less apt to walk away too soon? Who knows. But times really have changed, for all of art, and we can either sit around and bitch about it or we can support the young artists better, encourage them to continue making noise, fight for the sort of systemic change that’ll repave a path for them.
And that gets me to Tiny Habits: three students who met in a Berklee College of Music dorm 18 months ago, recorded themselves playing covers in a stairwell, and rapidly built an audience on social media — including prominent musicians and producers. Master harmonizers, the band brings to mind Crosby, Stills, & Nash, and present a modern take on pop folk with an innocent lyrical wisdom about the future that feels prescient beyond their years.
You’re a porch swing at a sunrise
In a backyard under blue skies
With my boots wet in the mudroom
I’m not sure yet if I’m alright
If I’m ready to go inside
Ah-ah, ah-ah
Ah-ah, ah
Well, the last one was a shipwreck
When you drown once, it’s scary to swim again
Ah-ah, ah-ah
Ah-ah, ah
What does it feel like to start a band when the prospects of making money are so dim? People thought I was crazy to spend money on a Master of Fine Arts when I did, and I took on a whole lot of debt with limited lifetime earning potential. And though I don’t regret it, ever, I have given the advice to others over the years that it’s only worth it if you’re doing it for the love of the craft, if you’re fully aware of the reality attached to an art degree.
Berklee kids tend to be alright. It is the Harvard of music, afterall, but no amount of talent can trick an algorithm, change the royalties model, or encourage audiences to start showing up to live shows. An artist entering art school these days is up against the worst prospects ever, and yet, they’re still showing up, still making noise, still reminding us that art still is the defiant act of protest that challenges the very systems that hold it back.
But I see the warmth inside you
Kitchen towels and Christmas lights
You’re what I need, I think that scares me
So, I’m waiting in the mudroom (mm-mm)
There are people that I don’t wanna end up like
But we’re all sequels to our parents’ lives
Does hesitation to a good thing
Mean the wounds need more healing?
I love the Tiny Habits story, the innocence of how they met and the very modern way in which they’ve built an audience. It’s a blueprint for other art school kids who have noise to make and meaning to share. They remind me that there still is hope, that no matter how hard tech and capitalism try to replace us, we will always find a way.
Oh-oh-oh, God, I see the warmth inside you
Fitted sheets and story time
You wanting me, hard to believe you
I need a minute in the mudroom (ooh, ooh)
I can see the warmth inside you
Copied keys and sweet arrivals
Grab my coat and take off my shoes
Go inside and leave the mudroom
