getting ctrl

My name is Julia Goldish, and I am a senior at the University of Michigan studying honors communications, with minors in both writing and gender and health. 

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I am weirdly into school (like I love learning). But, I am not just a nerd. I love spending time with people, practicing work as a reproductive loss doula, co-running a student fashion organization at school, and playing with my sweet one-eyed dog, Barley.

 

I also love SZA and listening to music. 

 

I was a sophomore in high school when SZA released her Ctrl album in 2017. I wasn't one of those die-hard fans that listened the night it was released. But, my friends labeled me as "the designated aux" for our friend group. So, the pressure was always on to find new music.

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I texted my go-to music guru, Lily on the day after Ctrl was released in search of some new music. Just my luck! Lily told me about this "literally amazing" new album from SZA. 

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This R&B, neo-soul, and indie album demonstrates SZA’s creativity, candor, and impressive vocal range and artistic talent. She writes a seemingly real-time reflection on experiences from a non-judgmental perspective, acknowledging her needs and validating herself. She doesn’t “have the energy to create a filter anymore.,” somehow both seemingly writing for herself, yet creating a space in which listeners can connect and empathize.

 

But, this is what I learned through research and extensive listening. And, that wasn't my initial evaluation. At that point, my bench of artists consisted of mostly Rihanna, Frank Ocean, Etta James, and Drake. 

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That night, we had an end-of-school-year party for our friends, and I knew I was going to claim aux. So, I decided to study up on this new album. I first played "Supermodel,"--her first song on the album--and was immediately like nope, can't play this at the party. It's a really slow song. Amazing. But slow. I listened to a few more of her songs on the album, but nothing was really speaking to me at the time. 

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And, that was the end of my Ctrl consumption...until December of 2017. At this point, I was in the thick of junior year of high school. This time was filled with immense anxiety, body image issues, and insecurity.

 

I received a notification from Lily with a link to a song on Spotify: "The Weekend - Funk Wav Remix." Obviously, I clicked and was surprised to find that SZA's slow songs could be more upbeat. I found myself listening over and over again. I decided it was time to return to Ctrl and give it a more fair listen. 

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I turned off the lights in my bedroom and snuggled into my bed. I lit three candles to set the ambiance and I clicked play on my phone. I mentally committed to listening to the entire album.

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The familiar guitar strum of "Supermodel" started, and this time, I actually felt the song. I was actively listening to the lyrics, because it almost felt like SZA was talking to me. She was voicing insecurities that I had in a way that I couldn't. I continued with the album, fluctuating between obsession and head nods. But, overall I loved the album. I was late to the game. But, I loved it.

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I have these hyperfixations that my therapist says comes with my ADHD. These can range from topics, to foods, to songs. At that moment, Ctrl became my hyperfixation. I memorized the lyrics, watched YouTube performances and music videos, and exclusively played her album on the drive to school. 

 

She “stumbled upon” music–which, by the way, this makes me so mad, because I want to be able to sing so badly, and I am horrible. But, I am such a good performer. So, maybe one day I can stumble onto an amazing talent too–Anyway, I listened to a Code Switch podcast episode in NPR and they mention how SZA said she turned the reverb down in Ctrl, so you can really only hear her voice. I realized that that is why the lyrics were so impactful and available for analysis. Because the beats and sounds were complementary to her raw voice, her vulnerability is far more authentic. Which is why it is so easy to resonate with her music.

 

Comparing my experiences to SZA's in her songs allowed me to empathize with her in healing ways. She provided a cathartic release. A human connection that voiced emotions I couldn't quite articulate. But, I started thinking about what it really means that I analyze and connect with her album. 

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I never really thought about my consumption of her music. Until I realized I had a whole fuck-ton of privilege. 

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We had similar upbringings–growing up in a mostly white suburb and attending Jewish summer camp. However, while I was a white, Jewish girl along with the rest of my peers, SZA “‘...felt different because [she] didn’t look the same’” (Sanchez, 2016). In other words, being a Black woman with an Orthodox Muslim upbringing in these environments socialized and impacted her in vastly different ways than myself. After growing up in this environment, I found myself surrounded by more white Jewish women at college, while SZA immersed herself in a more comfortable Black culture.

 

So, something about identifying so heavily with Ctrl generates feelings of inauthenticity and discomfort. As SZA pulls from experiences from her life that I am not a part of, it is fascinating that it can mean something so strong to me personally. Even further, what authorizes me–a white consumer–to attribute music by a Black artist to my identity? And, because I am uncomfortable about this, why do I still listen? How am I supposed to listen? How am I supposed to feel? Who is her music made for, if not me?

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I'll be honest. I have only learned how to talk about complex sociological issues, such as race and sexuality, from a very cautious and academic standpoint. I think that's also because I have a lot of privilege that I don't directly experience the consequences of these systemic issues. I've taken Intergroup Relations courses that immerse me in dialogue about my privilege, with the appropriate terminology, substantive education, and empathy. But, the way I speak about it, and write about it, is not really authentic to me. I'm trying my best to articulate complex emotions and personal experiences with the language I have available. How do I avoid sounding artificial? How do I correctly address important systemic inequalities in a way that feels empathetic rather than just sounding as such.

 

SZA appreciates Black culture in her music through the use of various methods. For instance, as she sings the entire album in falsetto, it is clear that she has much talent. However, in her songs, you can hear elements of scatting in “Pretty Little Birds.” Scatting is a type of improvisation in jazz music that is mostly made of syllables or short, nonsensical noises. These add much personality and authenticity to a song, and reference Black music through their relation to early jazz and its artists (ie Ella Fitzgerald).

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I recently learned that Ctrl is not only the abbreviated version of "control" to be edgy and futuristic. But also to differentiate herself from (while still appreciating) Janet Jackson's 1986 R&B album, Control. This album signified Jackson's liberation from the Jackson family, particularly her father. She explicitly asserts that she is a young woman coming into her own, similar to Ctrl's function for SZA. SZA and Janet Jackson are two Black artists that are writing about control and liberation based on their lived experiences.

 

But, for me...why Ctrl and why SZA?

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Taylor Swift, Phoebe Bridgers, and Maggie Rogers all sing about issues like insecurity, shame, and guilt. They have cool lyrical connections and symbols, sing with emotion, and have meaningful, relatable themes--all of which I love in SZA's music. But, I cannot even tell you the name of one Phoebe Bridgers song. Why don't I turn to other artists who are more like me?

 

I know I am not the only person to feel this way, but I believe how people deal with their guilt affirms their identity and values. With a month dedicated to African-American Music Appreciation, society–at least more overtly–appreciates music by Black artists. But, I may be one of few people who actually explores a different space of discomfort. This is a place that many white people fear to acknowledge, a space where ignorance and thoughtless consumption festers. I refuse to accept stagnancy, both socially and individually. I, too, feel alive and clear on what I want.

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But, I'm not sure if I fully get it.