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The Daily Fandom wishes to commemorate the media that has been released in the past two years on this Thanksgiving. In an effort to return to normal, the media we consume begins to emphasize the events of the past two years. Therefore, today we would like to discuss the media that has been released in the past two years and how it has shaped us and taught us how to move forward in this new era of normality. (Post-pandemic, still in the midst of a pandemic, and the future looking forward.) We have compiled a group of wonderful writers from The Daily Fandom to discuss their favorites from the past two years in this unprecedented period.
Hailee Bartz – A Thanksgiving Tribute To “Home Video” By Lucy Dacus
Back in June, Lucy Dacus released her third album — “Home Video.” An encapsulation of nostalgia, Dacus weaves together an album that explores relationships (those both strained and solid), the hazy confusion that accompanies growing up, and, before understanding what it was, sapphic yearning. “Home Video” nestles itself perfectly into the liminal time we experienced this summer and continues to drift through now. Things are sort of back to normal, and sort of not. A limbo between reflecting on what once was and appreciating what you have now, Dacus’s “Home Video” became a comforting presence in my life. Dacus has humility to her; she stands in place and lets her come to you. Nostalgia-based albums are hardly a unique concept, but Dacus makes the idea entirely her own.
Her warm, rumbling disposition and cool wit allow this to work in a way that would fail for others. Just like Dacus herself, “Home Video” isn’t an album you can force on someone; you have to let them come to it in their own time. During promo for the album, Dacus talked about how her parents recently moved from her childhood home. This event caused her to look through years of her personal history amidst such an isolating time and resulted in the creation of “Home Video.” Inspired intensely and creatively, this wistful sound weaves itself throughout the album as she explores nostalgia in all its senses: mournful, euphoric, comforting, embarrassing, and familiar. As cheesy as it sounds, this album became a friend to me. These songs are stories, and Dacus reflects on her past self with such a tenderness it’s as if you’re conversing with a friend, laughing and swapping middle school adventures about a life where you had yet to meet each other. She sings about Richmond, Virginia (her hometown), with bittersweet contemplation. Sure, she holds some resentment:
“Being back here makes me hot in the face. Hot blood in my pulsing veins. Heavy memories weighing on my brain. Hot and heavy in the basement of your parents’ place.”
(( Lucy Dacus. “Hot & Heavy.” Home Video, Matador Records, 2021. Spotify. Lucy. ))
At the same time, she approaches her younger self with courageous gentleness. In this sense, “Home Video” walks its own liminal space between reminiscing and repression to produce an evocative look at one’s past. From the folky, sing-along camp tune, “Going, Going, Gone,” to the catchy rhythm of “Brando,” to the poignant ballad of “Thumbs,” Dacus showcases an array of her talents across the album.
She crafts an intimate atmosphere and adds the vocal harmonies of Julien Baker and Phoebe Bridgers, bandmates, and longtime friends, inviting you even further into the intimacy of her story.
“The future isn’t worth its weight in gold. The future is a benevolent black hole,”
(( Dacus. “Cartwheel.” Home Video, Matador Records, 2021. Spotify. ))
she sings in the closing lines of her song “Cartwheel” — a line that could serve as the mission statement to “Home Video.” Dacus tackles the chaotic turbulence of emotions that come with reflection but doesn’t forget to celebrate the cumbersome innocence of childhood. An empathetic love letter to her past, “Home Video,” is a sticky popsicle summer. It’s a sleepover with your best friend in a cool basement, an anxious churning in your stomach as you look out the backseat window; whispered secrets—lackluster crushes.
“Home Video” hugs you; it takes your hand and guides you through, well, home video after home video. It tells you that you are not alone, and really, that’s all we can ask from music.
Julianne Kerver – A Thanksgiving Tribute To Only Murders In The Building (( Martin, Steve & Hoffman, John. Hulu. 2021. ))
If you need to fill the hole in your heart for a quality murder mystery with a strong ensemble Knives Out (Johnson, Rian. 2019) left behind, look no further than Only Murders in the Building (2021, Hulu). This hilarious, heartwarming show about a heinous murder in a stunning NYC apartment complex won me over instantly. The trio, portrayed by Selena Gomez, Martin Short, and Steve Martin, have a chemistry that shines in every scene they share. Seeing a snarky twenty-something teaming up with an eclectic grown-up theater kid and another older man so anxious he gets nosebleeds when he talks to new people is an absolute delight. Their growing friendship helps embellish the main plot of solving the burning question via their podcast: Who killed Tim Kono?
Only Murders in the Building touches on a variety of topics: the questionable ethics of true crime, life after getting out of prison, the upper-class throwing money at legal problems to escape any and all consequences, grief, financial woes, and living and coping with childhood trauma. The writing never shies away from complex themes, themes we don’t often see on mainstream television for a comedy show. Episode 7, “The Boy From 6B,” is told from the perspective of Toby, a Deaf character portrayed by Deaf actor James Caverly, who proves to be a standout. The sound design puts the audience into Toby’s shoes, with dialogue and other diegetic sounds sounding muffled and difficult to hear. The acting by both Caverly and the rest of the ensemble strengthens this heart-pounding, brilliantly crafted half-hour of television.
ASL (( “American Sign Language.” NIDCD, October 29, 2021. )) is also explicitly used on-screen in this episode and others. While the show treats its more delicate subject matter with the care it deserves, there’s plenty of humor to be found in each episode. Martin Short fully embraces Oliver’s Broadway roots, playing up the dramatic nature of Oliver’s personality. The quirky and unlikely friendship of Gomez, Short, and Martin also provides the audience with plenty of laughter, from physical comedy to generational disconnects that lead to jokes that actually land. A sweet romance between Gomez and her childhood best friend, portrayed by Aaron Dominguez, also helps add some levity. So whether you’re itching for a new fictional murder mystery to solve, you need a good laugh, or you’re aimlessly scrolling through Hulu’s extensive catalog, Only Murders in the Building can’t be missed.
Kelly Rota – A Thanksgiving Tribute To “Animal Crossing”
I spent the majority of the pandemic working in what was left of the service industry. As the hostess of a large establishment in one of the more expensive districts in San Francisco (the Marina), I implemented and enforced pandemic regulations and city ordinances. What I was not expecting when I started back in June 2020 was the amount of blowback and resentment I would receive from customers (mainly locals). Working five days a week as the only host on shift, I spoke to an average of 1,800 customers a week, the majority of which refused to acknowledge the pandemic, let alone wear a mask. The work was tedious, emotionally exhausting, and sometimes frightening.
Over the summer, my friends (who had moved away at the start of the pandemic) had begun posting pictures of their homes and “Animal Crossing” caricatures. It wasn’t until the stimulus check and the Holiday Covid shut down in November that I finally had the time and money to invest in my island. I had played the previous iterations of “Animal Crossing,” so I had a general idea of what I was in for. However, the immersive quality of the Switch, along with free rein over the island, offered an escape from reality, unlike anything I had ever experienced. Life on the island was in stark opposition to my day-to-day life.
My interactions with fellow islanders were so light-hearted and generous, just the type of interactions I was sorely deprived of; it nearly brought me to tears. And during the massive fires in California, when it was extremely hazardous to be outside, and I couldn’t even escape to nature on my days off, I had the peaceful tranquility of my island; the sounds of waves lapping at the shore leaves rustling in the breeze, crickets chirping at dusk. Visiting my island became more than an escape; it was therapeutic and sometimes meditative. During a time in my life where I felt I had no control, I am grateful I found a small island of peace and kindness to maroon myself on.
Ang Cruz – A Thanksgiving Tribute To “Jubilee” By Japanese Breakfast
I came across Japanese Breakfast during a difficult time in my life. At the time, the band had just released their sophomore album “Soft Sounds from Another Planet.” Front-woman Michelle Zauner approached the topic of grief both aggressively and delicately. Each track demands its listener to confront a range of feelings that are not always easy to face head-on while still holding them with empathy and reflection. Grief is a consistent thread in Japanese Breakfast’s discography. Their freshman album, “Psychopomp,” heavy-handedly tackles a significant source of Zauner’s grief — the unexpected news of her mother’s cancer diagnosis. “Soft Sounds” continues this conversation but also discusses the aftermath of going through a traumatic loss.
Released in June 2021, Japanese Breakfast’s third album, “Jubilee,” is a continuation of her conversation about grief. However, she uses this album to talk about grief in a new light. As stated by Zauner in an article with Pitchfork, “Jubilee” is an album about joy after “spending the last five years writing about grief.” Although the band tackles serious topics such as having to separate yourself from a toxic relationship with a loved one (“Tactics”) and a song that uses the metaphor of putting a dog down to losing a relative (“In Hell”), there is so much love and light in this album as well. “Kokomo, IL” is arguably one of Zauner’s most touching love songs that comes from the point of view of a teenager saying goodbye to his true love.
“Posing for Cars” is another love song about how much two people are capable of love, which she performed with her bandmate and husband Peter Bradley when I saw her in concert for the “Jubilee” tour. This album acts as a stark contrast to the previous albums while still encompassing the best parts of Japanese Breakfasts’ music. I first became a fan of Japanese Breakfast in 2018, but a significant amount of my healing happened from 2020 to 2021 as isolation gave me the space to start regularly attending therapy and actively confront my trauma. “Soft Sounds” and “Psychopomp” opened me to the feelings of pain, anger, and fear that I couldn’t convey into words – but “Jubilee” reminded me that, like Zauner, while my pain may be a constant in my life – it doesn’t mean I can’t experience moments of joy as well.
As mentioned, Japanese Breakfast was one of the first bands I saw once COVID-19 restrictions eased up in California. I went to the second to last show of the “Jubilee” tour, where I went incredibly early so that I could stand near the front of the stage during her set. As Zauner sang the opening lines of “Paprika,” the opening song on “Jubilee,” and the first song of her setlist, a rush of pride, excitement, and joy went through me as I realized I’d managed to not only survive a global pandemic but the difficult times in my life as well. The chorus of “Paprika” has a line that goes, “How does it feel to be at the center of magic to linger on tones and words?” I imagine being able to listen to their music is as close to said magic as I’ll come.
Lauren Morgan – A Thanksgiving Tribute To Morbid (2018-)
As we slip into our new normal, I am grateful to have maintained a little extra time at home each week — virtual office hours and meetings, for the win. And the best part? I’ve gained more opportunity to stay within the confines of a laundry room in Massachusetts, scrutinizing suspects’ behavior, expressions, and conversations – all in an effort to solve or be informed about another case many miles away from the plush, dog-fur covered couch Tennessee on which I comfortably spend my spare time. The true-crime podcast Morbid (2018-present) has been there to keep me grounded. And it’s no wonder. Though the podcast didn’t begin during quarantine in 2020, it still appeals to that self-isolating mentality. Though most of my free time in 2020 was spent teaching and working on my Master’s thesis, 2021 has given me more time between classroom instruction and working on Ph.D. applications.
During these post-pandemic transitions, not only in society but in my academic career, I was eager to find something to consume that was decidedly different from my “old normal.” I had little knowledge of podcasting, and prior to quarantine, I hadn’t even listened to a single podcast; I have feelings about audiobooks, as I don’t personally enjoy the audiobook experience myself (cue English Lit major energy). I was afraid that the podcast scene wasn’t for me, but my Spotify knew better. During the anxiety-ridden commute home after the two-week hiatus from in-person class meetings, while awaiting instruction regarding the quick transition to online learning (and this was during my first semester teaching Freshman Comp. as a GTA), I typed “true crime.” I selected one of the top podcasts from the list of options, eager for a distraction from my chaotic thoughts. I haven’t looked back. Morbid (2018-present) is much more than a guilty pleasure or a way to kill time.
With lighthearted (but respectful) flair, Ash and Alaina cover a diverse range of cases, often covering unsolved or lesser-known cases in an effort to increase attention or bring awareness to the victims, along with the impact on victim’s families. Episodes vary from serial killers to paranormal happenings, and we become immersed in intensely gripping scenes, even though the profiling and “lighthearted nightmares” happen inside four walls with the hosts Ashleigh “Ash” Kelley and Alaina Urquhart just sitting around a table. These discrepancies are oddly comforting, and there’s no shortage of mocking quips against those who perpetrate crimes. My personal favorite is the hosts referring to Robert Ben Rhoades as a “human version of a clogged toilet.”
The podcast is significant to me in another way. During these times, self-isolation and societal change have taken their toll on our mental health. To combat this, I love to immerse myself in Morbid’s (2018-present) “Listener Tales” episodes which engage with participatory culture and social activity in an isolation-friendly space; in these episodes, they read aloud emails sent from their listeners which relay their spooky or terrifying experiences. With episode 210 of Morbid currently playing from my phone as it charges nearby, I know that the community of “Weirdos” will continue to inspire me long after my binge session ends. Through the words of Ash and Alaina:
“You are welcome here.”
Shareca – A Thanksgiving Tribute To Loki (( Waldron, Michael. Disney +. 2021-. )) & WandaVision (( Shakman, Matt. Disney +. 2021. ))
Two shows have been my saving grace over the past two years. Not only did they provide me with a deep sense of empathy, but they also allowed each of us to learn how to live with grief and grow from it. As we enter this new normal in 2021, the shows that have become defining to how we will live in the next decade will be covered in much of the zeitgeist to come.
There are two shows that have done an outstanding job of covering what we have felt in our daily lives (without using masks or any other form of “unprecedented”), these are Loki (( Waldron, Michael. Disney +. 2021-. )) and WandaVision (( Shakman, Matt. Disney +. 2021. )). Those shows came from the depths of Disney + and the MCU and provided us with the entertainment we needed to make it through the foreseeable future. In its own right, WandaVision created a line that resonated with a wide range of people who were dealing with the same issues, which was well expressed by Vision:
“What is grief, if not love persevering?”
Said by Vision. (( Shakman, Matt. WandaVision. Season 1, Episode 9. Disney +. 2021. )).
Loki provided us with a feeling of escapism as we dealt with our meta versions of ourselves and the trauma we encountered. In the absence of Loki and Sylvie, we would not have been able to look inward at our own empathy and trauma and identify our own next steps. Loki, in many ways, taught us that, in order to grow and move forward, we are required to tackle what has come before us, maybe not in the most conventional manner, but nevertheless, in some manner.
I consider Loki and WandaVision to be the best shows produced by the pandemic, among many of those mentioned in this article. They provided exactly what I needed to get through the summer, the grief, and the bleak future that was laid out before us. If not for Vision’s iconic line, Loki’s understanding of himself, or Sylvie’s willingness to sacrifice, I might not have been able to understand my own emotions.
We thank you all for reading all year long and wish you a wonderful Thanksgiving. Here is to many more Thanksgivings around the sun!