Love in a Hopeless Place: Songs That Got Us Through 2011 (Part Two)

by: Mariann Devlin

Note: This is the second entry in a two-part feature on the Songs of 2011. Check out yesterday’s piece by Lindsey Dietzler.

The songs that defined 2011, for me, aren’t exactly the happiest of tunes. In fact, I think 2011 can be considered my Year of Unaccomplishment. Sure, I finished school, but the prospect of getting a full-time reporting job in Chicago looks bleak. And being a people hoarder, I spent entirely too much energy trying to maintain some difficult relationships, instead of just letting them evolve as they will.

It’s fine, though. 2012 will probably be my Year of Finding Meaning Out of Last Year’s Letdowns. After winter comes spring, and I have a feeling that this spring of 2012 will mark a new chapter in my life, one in which I will have learned to lower my expectations, but also take joy in whatever presents itself to me.

Plus, as most of us know, such disappointment, and sometimes despair, is universal. That’s why songs like the following, from some of the best albums of the year, are so appealing. These guys know how I feel.

In ascending order, I present to you the songs that defined my year of bittersweet resignation.

1. “Born Alone” by Wilco

I’m relieved that Wilco, one of my favorite bands, came out with a great album after 2009′s sort-of self-titled dud. This is further proof that one can have a successful year after bombing. (Critics may disagree with me here, but Wilco (The Album) was a major disappointment. )

The lyrics for “Born Alone” were thrown together from a book of poems, according to this piece in the Atlantic, but I doubt his choice of poet Emily Dickinson was all that random.

“Will you weather, join the cold, come before I die?”

The answer is sometimes no.

To indulge in the mystery of life, its highs and its lows, is an experience best suited for solitude. That’s not exactly my approach to life, given that love and friendship are what create meaning in my life, but the lyrics “I was born to die alone” is a comforting mantra when the things that provided you with so much fulfillment start to fade away — as they always do.

2. “Holocene” by Bon Iver

To look back in time, and realize the contingency and temporality of your life, could be a melancholic experience. (In the same way that solitude could easily be felt as loneliness.) But to acknowledge your insignificance, your powerlessness to alter the events of your life, can also be a peaceful experience. In the music video for “Holocene,” a young boy wakes up, puts on his boots, and hikes through a pristine, awe-inspiring landscape, one that will certainly outlast him.

Growing up in a beautiful place like Anchorage, Alaska, I have had moments where — as I was hiking up a forested cliff or a frozen glacier, land that had been unmarred for thousands of years — my all-too-human anxieties would fall away. That humbling reminder, in the form of mountains, ice caverns, and inlets, isn’t available to me in a city like Chicago, but it can rest in a song like “Holocene.”

3. “My Mistakes” by Eleanor Friedberger

Sometimes you don’t learn from your mistakes in love until there’s no other chance to make them, but given this song’s chipper tone- it doesn’t sound like Eleanor Friedberger is beating herself up too badly. I don’t think I will either.

“Why keep time travelling if it doesn’t get better on the second time around?”

Good question. The answer is that old habits aren’t the only things that die hard. Hope for love’s fulfillment also takes a long time to dissipate. Just not long enough.

4. “Never Quite Free” by Mountain Goats

I will admit, without any shame, that I freakin’ bawled my eyes out when I heard this song, like I typically do when John Darnielle — my favorite songwriter of all time — gets all tender and sings about surviving child abuse. (The band’s album The Sunset Tree is dedicated to this.)

Surviving the things that shook your foundation, whether or not you were an abuse victim, doesn’t mean forgetting they happened. You’re “never quite free” in the sense that there will always be painful reminders, but the old adage “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger” is true.

It’s okay to find the faith to saunter forward

There’s no fear of shadows spreading where you stand

And you’ll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you

And the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land

5. “Forgiveness” by Girls

Like most Girls songs, this one isn’t cryptic. But far from being a trite ditty about the virtue of being nice to each other, there was probably a profound need for grace and absolution in the life of lead singer Christopher Owens, who grew up in the Children of God cult.

Lots of people have long-spanning conflicts with family members that can lead to endless finger-pointing and shaming. The best thing to do, always, is to recognize the other person’s humanity and truly let the past go.

An important lesson I’ve learned in life is to realize that our parents, siblings, and other family members all have limitations — just like I do. Familes don’t stop making mistakes just because they’re families.

6. “Last Leaf” by Tom Waits

Okay, maybe this isn’t a song of bittersweet resignation per se, but it is a bittersweet eulogizing of one’s personal tenacity and will to live. Nobody knows this better than Tom Waits, a national treasure who was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year. Shining a light on the on the the strange, the derelict, the aberrant aspects of our lives, Waits is one of the few artists to have convinced us that life’s grit is worth embracing.

For those of you who can’t look back on 2011 with much fondness, don’t despair. Dawn is breaking.

Mariann Devlin is a recent journalism school graduate from Loyola University. She’s a reporter for Patch.com, and a volunteer contributor to Streetwise magazine, a publication dedicated to ending homelessness. Originally from Anchorage, Alaska, Mariann moved to Chicago four years ago and still complains incessantly about the cold winters. Follow her on her blog at  mariannecdotes.wordpress.com.