Change is a hell of a thing.
It’s a precarious thing to confront because it’s never really convenient (and I want my damn convenience). Humans, for better or worse, are creatures of habit. We don’t like change. It upsets us. It scares us. But ultimately, it consumes us.
And as with every other fundamental human complexity (love, hate, sex, and fuck it, love again), change makes for a great tune. Or album. Or whatever. “Weight”, off of Mikal Cronin’s latest release MCII, is a perfect example of this (which explains why I’d lead in with so such a musically deficient introduction).
While it probably would have made a lot more sense to talk about another song on the album (called "Change"), I would rather take the harder route, because the harder route equates to more words. I like words. Anyway, all it takes is about 15 seconds to realize that “Weight” and most of MCII is concerned with change, and its often inconsistent role in our daily lives.
The song opens with a lovely piano melody, that quickly changes (see what I did there? it’s all symbolic) to a jangly, distortion infused pop song. Of course, I mean that in the best way possible way, as jangly, distortion infused pop songs are my favorite. And while “Weight” is full of aurally pleasing elements, I was most captivated by the sincerity of Cronin’s lyrics.
Maybe that’s because I can relate. Change certainly has a very specific weight to it, and after a while, that weight gets a bit too overbearing. Especially when it comes to interpersonal relationships. Those are the worst. No, but really, they do take their toll. I’m no scientist, but I will boldly claim that weight of change in these situations eventually becomes too much to handle. Or maybe that’s not it. Maybe it’s the anticipation of having to reinvest so much of yourself into someone all over again.
Yeah, that sounds better. Or maybe I’ll change it later. Maybe.