What would you expect it to say if you had opened the opinion section and noticed this article titled solely by my name?
Maybe it would contain my philosophy of life: a tiny, article-sized summation of my mind and mentality. It could be aligned with the structure of a short biography, answering the question of who, honestly, am I? Or the piece labeled “Madison Anderson” could, in the words of my friend, be “something self-deprecating.”
While a written article is my preferred medium to express my mindset, the self-titled album for the musician encompasses a similar thought process.
My most current and favorite self-titled album comes from The Band Camino. Pop elements are complemented by a Rock foundation, with beautifully agonizing lyrics. Content desperation and muted angst lace excruciating introspective conclusions while nuanced with a self-destructive “it is what it is” mentality.
Apparently, according to the notion that this haunting album is self-titled, the band has found their ideological nirvana or at least a frail version of it, but what makes the elements worthy of such a timeless standard?
While listening to the album one day, I had the thought, “what aspects make an album worthy of being self-titled?”
I did some research, and the most recurring answer was, according to Ennui Magazine, that the self-titled album deeply represents the band, their music, or the message they are trying to convey.
In a simple statement, “This is who we are.”
How did The Band Camino come to an agreement that their state of mind is at peak integrity and solidification to what they believe? Would they regret the long-lasting attachment of their current beliefs to a changing existence?
Like The Band Camino with the release of different songs, I could sit at my laptop every week and self-title each of my most valued articles because they are a written representation of who I am and my life philosophies. But what aspect commits the artist to consciously tying the work’s ideologies with their name for eternity?
For example, the band’s newest album touches on disappointing family and younger, more innocent versions of themselves with who they’ve become, the lack of societal connection, contentment and unrequited affection with the devastating pain of loving someone.
Are these the current circumstances and that the band wants to affiliate with who they are? Disappointing mom and not recognizing themselves in the mirror? This is their peak.
Maybe it’s beneficial that The Band Camino illuminates the adverse hopelessness of mid-20’s adulthood. There is this beautifully dark realization that things cannot and will not get better, and there is, I believe, freedom in waving the ideological white flag.
Every artist produces something that they will grow out of, whether it is a colorful, acute infatuation with dependence on a person’s words or the negative mentality of their destructive youth. Still, there is also a timelessness in understanding its influence on the future.
Clearly, The Band Camino demonstrates that idea by their “I am who I am, and it is what it is” structure in the album. The outcome is neither positive nor negative for the band’s emotional and relational growth.
Are we, then, all stuck in the mundanity of a hopelessly optimistic in-between? Is a true belief-based and introspective nirvana an unhealthy balance of wide-eyed, grandiose enthusiasm and depressive surrender?
I, for one, have an ignorant dependence on the notion that things will one day get better, so I write words with a deep longing that the things that inspire me to register will not be a deciding factor anymore. I want to move on to new problems, thank you.
So, when would you self-title your life? Do you feel ready to seal the stamp of ideological approval?
In the words of The Band Camino, “Who do you think you are?”
