“Skip this garbage!”
While the 11-year-old I pick up from school’s reaction to the songs was a bit extreme, I won’t lie — part of me felt the same way listening to the Backseat Lovers’ newest album, “Waiting to Spill.” This was only the second time I had pressed “play” on Apple Music, and I was still about as impressed with the music as the kid I babysat was.
I didn’t go into the experience ready to criticize — on the contrary, this album was one I had been excitedly anticipating for months. The indie band had landed on my radar less than a year ago, and I was immediately drawn to their style: reflective, moody lyrics usually paired with a knee-bouncing, joyful beat. They sang about love, and friendships, and the heartbreaks and triumphs relationships hold. You might even remember my article on them from last semester, where I praised their ability to link depressing realities with upbeat music, taking familiar pains and infusing happiness into them. “Recently, the Backseat Lovers have been on repeat in my car,” I wrote, probably while one of their songs played in my ear.
If you had told me then that six months later I would be typing up a piece criticizing their music, I probably would have laughed.
And yet here we are. “Waiting to Spill” came out seven days after Taylor Swift’s “Midnights,” and I’d had the album pre-ordered for weeks. I was so excited — as a newer fan, this would be the first Backseat Lovers music I would discover at the same time as everyone else. There’s something of a milestone in that: I felt I would finally be on equal footing, graduating from bright-eyed newbie to experienced veteran. The entire week leading up to the release of “Waiting to Spill,” I (along with half the world) listened to “Midnights,” fully content in knowing that I would have to give up the album once the Backseat Lovers came along.
As expected, “Waiting to Spill” came out Oct. 28. As expected, I listened to the entire album the minute I woke up. And, as I in fact didn’t expect, I didn’t like it. “Midnights” resumed its spot on the top of my playlist, and I ignored the indie band’s album for weeks afterwards.
Since then, I’ve been trying to figure out what changed. When I first heard their music, I was immediately hooked, which doesn’t happen often. One listen was enough to not only entice me to keep listening to their music, but also to add it to my library — again, something that very rarely occurs. So why, then, was I so unhappy with “Waiting to Spill?”
But that was the wrong word. Not unhappy. Disappointed. And, in my experience, high hopes met with disappointment are so much worse than to simply never hope at all. Over the past half year, I’ve consumed the Backseat Lovers’ music constantly. I’ve loved every second of it, sure, but I’ve built up unconscious expectations for those four band members I wanted them to fulfill in this new album, whether I realized it or not.
Their songs felt different from their past works that I’d gotten used to. Maybe it was their shift from singing about love to singing about self-discovery. Maybe it was the quieter, more introspective chords of music, more prevalent than the bolder beats of their previous album. Whatever it was, I didn’t like the shift. And I’ll bet each of you has experienced that in some form or fashion with an artist you’ve loved, haven’t you? It feels almost like a betrayal — the artist lures you in with their style, makes you love them, and then suddenly changes. Without your permission. But whose fault is that?
The Backseat Lovers started out as most bands do, I’m sure — a few talented friends coming together, wanting to write about whatever it is they wanted most to write about. But, over time, their fanbase grew. They started a tour, then a bigger tour, then added more shows to the tour because the first ones had sold out. And, at some point, they had to choose, didn’t they? Write for themselves, or write for their audience? Grow and change and adapt with their music or remain static and keep giving listeners what drew them in the first place?
I think sometimes we don’t give artists enough credit for the courage it takes to change. To potentially alienate their listeners because they feel being true to themselves and what they want to sing is more important than the expectations laid upon them.
“Time keeps telling me to change, but I’m fragile and afraid” the Backseat Lovers croon in their second track, “Close Your Eyes,” as drums build in the background. Writing this, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve contributed to their fear of change. The band has always made a habit of being vulnerable — their willingness to open up to listeners is part of what drew me towards them. If they’re vulnerable enough to admit that they want to grow, why shouldn’t I let them?
I’ve listened to the album a few times since. And, though the songs are growing on me (and I bought tour tickets), “Waiting to Spill” still isn’t my favorite album. It’s reflective, and moody and searching. It’s a personal album about growing up and finding yourself among the noise. It’s not what I expected, but I’m learning to like the album for what it is, not for what I hoped it would be. Artists go their own way, and we as listeners don’t have to follow them if we don’t want to. But we can’t expect them to go our way either.
“Yesterday, I wrote a little tune; I’m afraid you’ll hate the words I used,” sing the Backseat Lovers over soft piano chords on their fifth track, “Words I Used.” And I’ve realized that I don’t. I hated that the band I admired so much changed without my consent — but that’s not very fair of me, to deny them that. Just because I struggle with change doesn’t mean I should resent them for embracing it.
The Backseat Lovers are finding themselves in their sophomore album, sharing their growth over the past three years since their debut album was released. The title of the album, “Waiting to Spill,” is a message to listeners to be patient. To listen closely and appreciate the songs for what they are. And I’m trying my best to do just that.
