I CAN’T MAKE UP MY MIND ABOUT COURTNEY BARNETT

The first time I can remember hearing Courtney Barnett, it was the Spring of 2015. I was driving through the city in my little FIAT when she came on the radio. I became more attentive than usual (while still keeping both eyes safely on the road, of course) because I would be seeing her live in a few weeks at a music festival. I prefer to know at least some of an artists' material before I get to a show, and besides, I had heard good things about her.

She was a new female singer/songwriter playing guitar, so based on my natural tendencies, I should have loved her. But I didn't. At all. In fact, I was rather irritated by her style. The sing-songy rhyming, the I'm-at-university vocabulary, the apathetic tone. It seemed like the music was trying too hard at not trying.

To be fair, part of my dislike may just be that I am #old. After all, 20 years ago I was the world's number one Belle & Sebastian fan. Talk about a university vocab and apathetic tone! (Much love to B&S - they'll always be one of my favorites). But if you've heard the album The Boy With The Arab Strap, you know what I mean. And if you haven't, wtf dude? Go check it out.  Live a little. You can come back here after you're done - hearing that album is infinitely more important than anything I have to say.

The rest of you, please continue.

*ahem*

Back to Ms. Barnett.

As I was saying, I like to listen to the radio in the car most days. My town has a pretty great commercial-free station, and it's a convenient way to hear new and/or local music. A couple of weeks before the show, they were playing her songs. A lot. Overplaying, really, as radio stations are wont to do, and after a few listens, I began changing the channel whenever she came on. In fact, I came to actively dislike her music. So much so that I would sometimes leave the radio altogether and switch over to an iTunes playlist, which is something I typically reserve for desperate situations – like hearing Dawes or The Hold Steady.

The day of the show arrives. The sun is shining, and as my friend and I grab a spot on the lawn, Courtney Barnett comes on. He doesn't know her music, and so I, not wanting to disparage a young female singer-songwriter, tell him I think she's alright - just not really my thing. We listen, but it's an outdoor show, and we're quite far back, so the sound quality is pretty shit.

I point out the radio tracks as she plays them - yes, I do that, I know it's a problem...I also like to give background information on songs as their being sung, it's a thing I'm working on in therapy - but he's not really paying attention to what I'm saying anyway. I basically dragged him to this festival, so expecting him to care about my lukewarm takes on the music being played is pretty unreasonable.

After about an hour and a half she wraps up, and the crowd loves her - I clap and cheer enough to not be an asshole, and wait impatiently for Conor Oberst and later on, you guessed it - Belle & Sebastian, to take the stage. Oberst mentions a couple times that he thinks she's an incredibly talented songwriter, and I wonder what I'm missing.

Two years later and the #metoo movement is up and running. I'm following Alyssa Milano on Twitter (never thought that would happen), and women everywhere are talking about sexual harassment, quid pro quo propositions in the workplace, being judged solely on your appearance, and how scary it can be out on the town by yourself at night.

I'm feeling empowered, but I am also shocked, and to be completely candid, pretty disappointed. Most men had no clue about what women go through on a daily basis. Since it is such a part of my normal experience I just assumed that they knew and had empathy.

"What does #metoo have to do with Courtney Barnett?" you ask.

Well, I was going through iTunes adding all sorts of music to my queue (no, I'm not independently wealthy, I just have the subscription) and Courtney Barnett was regularly showing up as recommended. I kept ignoring it, but at some point, I thought to myself, what the hell, let's give her another try.

I pulled up her most recent album and listened to the first few songs, but they weren't really grabbing me. So I skipped to Nameless, Faceless, the most recent radio track at the time, and I caught the chorus:

I want to walk through the park in the dark,

Men are scared that women will laugh at them.

I want to walk through the park in the dark,

Women are scared that men will kill them.

In the wake of #metoo and the media coverage of incels, the lyrics seemed incisive, profound even. Those lines perfectly expressed the feeling I had when I realized most men knew nothing of women's everyday struggle just to exist.

And so with this new frame of reference, instead of apathy, I heard her voice a call to action. Yes, the lyrics were simple and understated, but what became clear to me was that, like Hemmingway, the simplicity made it compelling. An artist conveying their personal experience is what art is all about, after all. I was just missing her point until I saw it from a different (outsider) perspective.

So with my newfound respect for her music, I found myself playing Nameless, Faceless on repeat, singing along with her as I drove. I felt optimistic that the next generation of women would be able to walk alone at night without fear, thanks to artists like her, who weren't afraid to call out the bullshit.

*sound of a record being scratched by a needle*

And then I found out that she was quoting Margaret Atwood - the author who recently made her way into the mainstream with the popularity of the Handmaid's Tale series on hulu. This wasn't an original thought or turn of phrase of Courtney Barnett’s, it was taken from someone else.

Well, so what? Borrowing someone's words, melodies, beats, etc. as inspiration for something new, is common in music. And that's all she was doing. So why was I so unhinged by it? Because I had been basing my entire revised opinion of her music, on my belief that those lyrics showed deep insight. And when I found out they weren't her idea, I was forced to rethink my entire stance. Again.

Which brings us to today, where I really don't know what to think. I probably just need to accept the fact that I don't like her music, but I do like who she is. I think it's awesome that she writes songs which empower women. I also think it's awesome that people love her stuff. She's an admirable and highly respected artist. And let's be honest, I'm over here disagreeing with PitchFork and NPR. So...my qualifications? Nada. I'm wholly unfit to be giving my opinion on this matter. And that being the case, there's no reason Ms. Barnett would ever come across the meandering prose I've put down here today. But I would hope that if she did, she'd ask me, quite justifiably, "Don't you have anything better to do?".