Annivyrsary: 2000

ISSUE #94

I've watched nothing but High Fidelity (2000) for the past week. The movie is about Rob, an asshole thirty-something played by John Cusack who owns a record store in Chicago. He's also a huge loser. Rob tends to get dumped over and over again—he opens the movie by looking right in the camera and counting down his Top Five Most Memorable Break Ups. He's the type of person who's easy to leave. See, Rob is a blatant prick. He's full of unchecked misogyny (the movie knows this), and that means he'll blame his heartbreak on anything except for his own behavior.

Heartache and mixtapes—it's essentially Earwyrms: The Movie. Watching it feels like seeing my own shadow. The record store gives Rob and his employees (Jack Black and Todd Louiso) permission to be snobs all day, making lists like Top 5 Side One/Track Ones* and Top 5 Songs About Death.** I've done that type of shit my whole life and tried to pass it off as conversation. My brain is always scrambled, puzzle pieces out of the box. I line things up to make sense of them—writing will line up the words, playlists will line up the feelings. Without these coping mechanisms, my thoughts would be left out on the kitchen table.

This Valentine's Day, Hulu released a new TV version of High Fidelity. I told myself I wouldn't watch it. Its existence felt like a trick, its timing too convenient. It only took me two nights to cave. I set down the movie to watch the whole thing twice; some will disagree, but I think it's fantastic. With Zoë Kravitz as Rob—I think it's her best work—it eliminates the original's misogyny, which let's the show relax and explore the drastic changes in how we've engaged with music and heartache over the past twenty years.

The big difference may be that obsessing over music is about as passé as reading. With every song, every artist, every rarity at our fingertips, music is less a treasure and more accoutrement. Today it's more like drapery, background color and noise. Art becomes utility, artists are paid pennies, and those who still connect with songs are just eccentrics. “Half the neighborhood thinks we’re washed-up relics,” Kravitz says of herself and her record store. “The other half thinks we’re nostalgic hipsters. They’re both kind of right.”

With potential partners as accessible as discographies, the heartbroken can also feel like washed-up relics. We've always been replaceable, but never has it been so clear. There's no one like me—until you extend your search area another 20 miles. I've seen the pictures; swap me out! My depths are just a surface for skipping rocks.

But none of that is completely true. It's just my inner Rob talking. Songs are still feelings for some, and there are still people who love completely, unafraid to be torn apart at the end. It's why I'll never tire of seeing High Fidelity on screen—representation for those who engage with forces of the heart. That's what this newsletter is all about. High Fidelity walked so Earwyrms could run. I'll always love it for that.

*My Top 5 Side One/Track Ones:
1. The Hotelier, "An Introduction to the Album"
2. The Thermals, "Here's Your Future"
3. The National, "Secret Meeting"
4. Fiona Apple, "Every Single Night"
5. The Strokes, "Is This It?"

**My Top 5 Songs About Death:
1. Sufjan Stevens, "Death with Dignity"
2. LCD Soundsystem, "Someone Great"
3. Funkadelic, "Maggot Brain"
4. The Flaming Lips, "Do You Realize??"
5. The Smiths, "There is a Light that Never Goes Out"