nature and nurture

“… that’s your role,
The work that stirred your soul
You can make for someone else.”

Porter Robinson isn’t a musician I would normally gravitate to. He’s part of the house, synth-pop, EDM scene, which isn’t a scene I’ve been known to dip into.

There are, of course, exceptions. I love Caravan Palace. And I’ve listened to Madeon’s newest album an embarrassing number of times. But on the whole, I prefer different genres.

I like folk. I like indie. I like Broadway musicals and generic pop/rock.

Listening to music outside of your regular wheelhouse can be… enlightening. I grew up parroting the annoying slogan of “I like everything! Except rap and country,” until Dolly Parton, Childish Gambino, and—I know, I know, I’m a cringy theatre kid—Hamilton convinced me to give those genres a real chance.

Rap is so many things I had never bothered to realize because I dismissed it too quickly. It’s metaphor; it’s wordplay. It’s poetry, rhythm, rhyme, and movement, and yes, it’s kinda freaking brilliant. So much of country, once you move past the top-40 hits of today, is storytelling: people shaping their hopes and heartbreaks into short-form musical narratives. Like rap, it’s much more interesting than I used to give it credit for.

My reasons for avoiding these genres in the past were shallow. At some point, I was given the impression rap and country were inferior, and I didn’t care enough to question it. I made a premature judgment call on those kinds of music—whole entire categories—based not on my own experiences, but based on whatever ideas I’d absorbed secondhand through my peers.

Which, needless to say, is wrong and unfair and ignorant.

But rap and country weren’t the only genres I inherited unkind opinions about. If I say house, synth-pop, or EDM, what words do you associate with those types of music? Do you think of dancing in a neon-lit club? DJs with sunglasses and baseball caps? Do you think of things like “noisy,” “repetitive,” “superficial,” or “formulaic?”

How about “thoughtful?” Or “heartfelt?” Or sad, or sweet, or soulful?

Because I know that at least for me, I never thought of EDM music as being especially heartfelt. Creative? Yeah! Inventive? You bet! Fun to listen to? Go on & tell me this isn’t a bop. But somehow, I came to believe synthesized sounds and digital instruments couldn’t quite measure up to the “real” ones. I thought they couldn’t be “soulful” in the same way. Try as you might, there would always be a discernible difference; and what was the point in listening to synthesized guitar strings when I could pop in Ben Howard and listen to the “real” thing?

The point, as it turns out, is that any method of making music can be soulful so long as there’s a human soul behind it. In the case of Porter Robinson’s Nurture, every measure of every song is practically teeming with soul.

“Lifelike,” the opening track, is gentle and nostalgic in a way that sets the tone for the rest of the album. It sounds like something out of a Ghibli film, or a fantasy setting where the heroes stop to rest in a countryside hamlet. It’s peaceful. It’s lovely.

Most of the songs—and the project as a whole—pay tribute to what can help constitute an artist’s growth, whether personal or creative. We’re given a glimpse into what nurtures Porter (*ba-dum tss*) as a musician and as a person trying to keep his head up above water.

“Blossom,” “Sweet Time,” and “Mother” are odes to the relationships that help keep him going: the ones that inspire him to focus on living, to move forward, and to not take any of his days for granted. “Mother” is self-explanatory, but there’s a sincerity to the lyrics of “Blossom” and “Sweet Time” that I didn’t really expect (I wasn’t scared of this before/But since I met you, I don’t wanna die no more). It’s refreshing, in a sea of by-the-numbers love ballads, to hear Porter sing from such an obviously personal/specific place.

Even though these songs are great, my favorites on the album—and the ones I most relate to—are the ones that deal with artistic setbacks and triumph.

I’ve read countless blog posts that talk about The Writer’s Struggle. (Heck: I’ve even written a few!) There are movies, plays, books, articles, and episodes of television that revolve around the stress of trying to make… whatever it is somebody is making. But I can’t remember the last time I heard a musical body of work that featured these themes and honed in on them. And among the ones that exist, I’m not sure how many of them reach the same level of vulnerability Porter has here.

So many of the creative highs and lows are represented, either mentioned in lyrics or portrayed instrumentally. Burnout. Writer’s block. Inspiration! Validation! Messing around aimlessly in the hopes of finding something that “works.” Self-criticism, and the self-inflicted pressure of trying to follow up on your prior success. Again, there’s just such a genuine vulnerability here: a willingness to open up about the realities of the songwriting process that I, at least, haven’t encountered before.

The first time I sat and listened through the entire album, I was struck by the sensation of Porter having put words to my feelings—over, and over, and over again. It’s the emotional, not just rational, realization that your doubts are valid because others have shared them. It’s the elusive connection every artist hopes to make with their audience. (And vice-versa.)

Look. See? This is how I feel. You’ve felt the same way, haven’t you? You’ve been where I’ve been. You’ve walked in my same steps.

The relationship between “creator” and “consumer” is a symbiotic one, where either party wants to be seen, understood, and accepted by the other. I think that can only happen when an artist isn’t afraid to be honest. To bare it all. To expose themselves emotionally. The difficult work for so many of us is in learning how to balance that emotional openness with quality, skill, and respect for our craft.

But this, I think, is what we mean when we say someone has put their “heart” or “soul” into a piece. They’ve revealed their genuine selves, which—in turn—has let an audience connect to said work by recognizing themselves (and their own thoughts) in it.

At the end of the day, despite our individualities, some of our experiences are pretty universal. And if you make art or media of any kind, one of those universal experiences is being told: “Hey. Buddy. Old friend. Ol’ pal… Isn’t it about time you went and got a job?”

Nurture is infused with Porter Robinson’s honesty about himself, his insights, his creative process, and his insecurities. And that’s what makes it so “soulful.” It doesn’t matter that his chosen instruments are digital, or that his chosen genre is electronic. There’s something inherently true, inherently human and resonant, about his work.

And I’m so grateful I get to be alive to listen to it.

I mentioned before that a major running theme of Nurture is the patented Artistic Struggle. But, as any creative person knows, it isn’t all doom and gloom.

“Look at the Sky” is one of the most affirming things I’ve ever heard, with its chorus mantra of I’m still here/I’ll be alive next year/I can make something good. “Wind Tempos” evokes the feeling of lying out in the shade somewhere, letting your mind wander, listening to the bugs and trees and allowing that beauty to inspire you. “do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do” celebrates how music can speak where words fail. And the album’s closing track, “Trying to Feel Alive,” features lyrics that I consider to be its thesis:

Maybe it's a gift that I couldn't recognize
Maybe I don't really need to feel satisfied
Maybe it's a gift that I spent all this time
Just trying to feel alive

The process itself—the striving itself—is a gift. Anne Lamott talks about this too, in her book Bird by Bird: how writing is its own reward, and the simple act of practicing it is more fulfilling than any worldly measure of success could be. Sure, one day I might write a hit novel and find myself drowning in millions. But would that make me “feel alive” in the same way writing itself does? Would it satisfy me? Is reaching the mountain’s peak as compelling as the attempt to climb it?

No. (At least, I assume not. Drowning in millions wouldn’t make me a fuller person, but it would be helpful in paying off my student loans~~)

I shouldn’t assume too much about what Porter’s intentions were when he began to make music. However, I’m willing to bet he was hoping for some measure of fame. Or wealth. Or accolades. It’s what most of us secretly hope for when we first embark on that journey of creating… whatever it is we decide we want to create.

But if that was ever the case, his priorities have shifted. His focus is different. What he expects to gain out of the ordeal of writing and releasing music has changed.

In that same closing track—“Trying to Feel Alive”—Porter implies he’ll feel like a success if “somebody somewhere finds the warmth of summer in the songs [he writes].” Well. I’ve certainly found that warmth! Countless others of his fans and listeners have, too.

It disappoints me that in years past, I would’ve written off Nurture for no other reason than because of its genre. And that would have been a disservice to myself. I would’ve missed out on the ways in which Porter Robinson’s music inspires me.

The same can be said for rap and country. I spent too long missing out on what I’ve come to enjoy about those genres. I love language! So then why did I avoid rap? I love storytelling! Then why did I avoid country?

Again, it was because I wasn’t willing to step out of my comfort zone, to form my own opinions about those genres by giving them a fair chance. I took what the people around me said as gospel, when they were just as sheltered and uninformed as I was. Not to say that I suddenly know everything; just that I know Orville Peck is a wonderful artist.

If you’re like me, and not a usual fan of electronic music, maybe sit back, pop in some earbuds, and give Nurture (or another well-regarded EDM album) a listen. You never know—it might surprise you, and you might end up finding something new to enjoy.

Next on the out-of-my-comfort-zone agenda is heavy metal. Wish me luck.