Cheeky pessimism, music, and fag addiction.
Sean Finan (any) // Crew Writer
Sol Yoon (she/her) // Illustrator
It has been a month since you and I have last spoken. I admittedly do all of the talking. And you graciously listen to my words. Albeit I imagine you skim them casually, as I usually do when flicking through a magazine. The point is, it’s been a month, and too much has happened. So I will instead talk about some themes I am experiencing while being in the UK. These themes in no way encapsulate the totality of being here, but my aim is that if you are going abroad to the UK this may aid in giving you an inkling of what to expect.
The first thing that I’ve found incredibly fascinating is the mentality of the Brits. There is a tremendous amount of national pride in the UK, people love this place. But they also despise it. Many Londoners I’ve talked to have the mentality that the city is shit, but it’s their shit. This kind of cheeky pessimism is an interesting thing I’ve noticed and when I think about all of the music I love from the UK, it is all quite pessimistic. Whether it’s Radiohead, The Sundays, Belle and Sebastian, Blur, The Beatles, The Specials, etc., it’s clear that there is rich melancholy in this country that I haven’t observed anywhere else. I think this melancholic mood from the economic decline and miserable weather acts like a soggy breeding ground from which creative fungus can sprout.
The mentality towards sadness is much like Vancouver, which is why I believe Vancouver has so many wonderful artists as well. Vancouverites tend to be a bit less humorous about it though. The Brits have just been doing it for longer, to the point where they have figured out how to channel all of this creativity-inducing sadness. Which brings me to my next point—the music scene in London. When I came here, I knew they had plenty of chicken shops, but I had no idea the sheer amount that would be on every street corner, serving Michelin-level fried-chicken at all hours of the day. Much like I knew that bands like Black Midi and Black Country, New Road had recently come out of London, among dozens of smaller bands living in the city that have gigantic underground followings, but nothing could prepare me for the tremendous talent this city is serving up, hot and ready for late night consumption.
I have been to many gigs now at many different venues, and I think I’m beginning to understand why this city produces so many talented artists. It actually is all about the venues. In Vancouver, we have less than 10 small venues that people consistently go to for DIY, independently run live music. In London, there are countless venues. In 2019, there were close to 100 recorded grassroots venues. With this availability of opportunity to perform and meet new musicians of course the music itself is bound to flourish. In fact, in 2015, the Mayor created an initiative to support and protect grassroots music venues. London is obviously much larger than Vancouver, but I think the city could be doing a lot more to foster appreciation for live music. The sonic experiences that I’m undergoing feel like an IV of inspiration I can stick into my big vein whenever I need to. I have never met so many creative people in such a short amount of time. Anyways, this rant about venues is done. Now let’s talk about my
Addiction to Fags (cigarettes), why the UK made me start smoking again (and why I’m quitting forever starting now).
I recently took up the hobby of smoking for the second time. It’s been many years since my last cigarette and I never intended on starting again. But I fear I have caught a bad case of DAB or “Dissociative Abroad Behaviour,” where the patient does not recognize their unhealthy and dangerous choices because they feel like a different person when across a body of water. Now for the past couple of weeks a casual cigarette at a club has turned into a daily yearning that I intend to snuff out immediately. Like people, cigarettes are many things. They are kind of fun, they are terrible for you, they are like the best laxative on the market, they are a waste of time and money, they can be a great tool for socializing if you don’t know anyone at a show and they are completely unnecessary. You can make friends without asking for cigarettes.
Quitting is confusing because there are so many perspectives from which you can view cigarettes. It’s not a big deal until I realize that my left lung slightly aches when I inhale. I think it helps that the packaging has an image of rotting teeth and the word cancer written about 16 times. I feel so much better when I don’t smoke, but coming back to the pessimism, it’s kind of nice to feel like you’re doing something unhealthy. At least there’s a weird sexiness to it, which I’m sure becomes incredibly unsexy when you ultimately face the consequences of your actions. It’s already unsexy. Can we make peace and taking care of ourselves sexy again? Has it always been? It is to me. I like having teeth and I don’t want cancer so I am stopping immediately. It was fun while it lasted. I got the cultural experience of smoking in a pub garden in London and now I think I’ll focus on the people instead. Plenty of people here actually don’t smoke. There’s no point in participating in a cultural experience at the cost of your health. It works for some people, I will never judge someone for smoking because we’re all at different stages in our cyclical becoming. Like doom-scrolling, smoking, at its best, is just something to do, and there are always way better things to do.
Anywho, that’s all for this month. I hope this is better than a summary of everything I’ve done. I would honestly rather eat glass than regurgitate my itinerary from every day.
I love you, whoever you are. Thanks for reading. If you’re in London, come say hello.
Until next time x