What do you want?
Bit of a loaded question, isn't it? Okay. Let's try a different angle then.
What do you allow yourself to want?
It struck me recently how much of our music (and art, more broadly) is to do with wanting things you shouldn't. The inescapable pull. That wrestling with the Shadow that Jung warned us about.
Is writing about it a way of wrestling? I think, in a way. It did occur to me that it is, after all, an interesting and strange feeling, when you find yourself wanting something despite your better judgment. It forced me to admit that, as a writer myself, I would no doubt put pen to paper, also, in that situation.
But is that properly addressing it?
In a sense, though I'm still on the fence. On the one hand, I think making art out of the things you feel darkest about, and that perhaps you find hard to speak out loud does lessen their power. I never understood stories like Harry Potter where the main villain's name is unspeakable. How, when knowing a monster's name gives you power over it, and this is something that's been in our psyche for a long time, already?
On the other hand, though, I don't think the mere act of putting it out there suffices. I think it takes active work with what comes out, after the creative process is over, to properly address and integrate this part of you. The Shadow's made up of all sorts of repressed needs and unspoken desires, and while it's one (good) think to speak them into art, it's another level to make the conscious leap to "this is a part of me".
I mean, it's just some food for thought, and something I may write more on in the future. For now, I just wanted to share some songs revolving around this nugget of hidden want.
This came into my playlist while I was cleaning the other week, and I found myself singing and for the first time, perhaps, paying attention to the lyrics. While Alice Cooper makes it seem tremendously sexy, it's worth reminding ourselves that the Alice we see is very different from the man behind.
I think that's a great trick available to artists, because it really lets you become unhinged without losing your personal progress. Which is something I must say I struggle with a bit in my own writing lately. The little knowing voice that warns certain behaviors and desires of my characters aren't healthy. But then again, it's not a self-help book, is it?
And while I think it may be useful to have an alter ego of this kind to channel all the things you repress and which make you unacceptable to the world, there's a danger to that, also.
Obviously.
God, I loved this one when I was younger. Then again, I've loved every iteration of Brent Smith since I first discovered him. A different kind of sexy. If Alice Cooper is bondage, this one's a lot more S&M. Crawling on your knees. Except it takes grit and at times a strong stomach to confront the parts of you that want to.
I find listening to these is a good exercise, as an artist. Teasing out the self that's evolved past romanticizing these kinds of co-dependent, abusive relationships, and the listener who's just going "bro, it's still a kickass song". And isn't that a form of repression, also? As long as you lie to yourself about the appeal of the darkness, you're bound to relapse into it, inevitably.
Now, this, you don't gotta lie to yourself about. Lzzy's appeal is undeniable.
I tell myself
That you're no good for me
I wish you well
But desire never leaves
I could fight this to the end
But maybe I don't wanna win
It's interesting to me how much of art addresses the object of desire, how easy it is and appealing to the audience, of course. But tricky. Because it leaves the conversation open.
I don't know. I think listening to these helps romanticize, though not necessarily accept or bring to surface. It's not just saying "I want" and giving in to that want sooner or later. It's sitting with the want until it becomes an acceptably terrible thing.
Or maybe not. Happy #threetunetuesday, 
