Sara <+++@+++++++++.com>
To Tegan
May 27, 2021, 7:12 PM
Every time you get talking about Georgia, I think to myself, “there’s so much there to mine for lyrics.”
I have heard you talk for hours about how difficult and transformative this experience with Georgia has been. Not just the relationship developing between you and your dog but also how that impacts your relationship with your partner. It’s changed you, how you see yourself, how you see work and touring, how you experience the world. Those are all huge things; you could probably write 10 songs about it all!
What is missing for me in some of your recent songs is the sense that you are really digging down deep inside of yourself to talk about something that is happening *right now*. It’s easy and sometimes safer to mine the past (I do it all the time) but what you’re feeling about Georgia is as substantial as falling in love with another human being or being rejected by another human being! Explore that!
Other possible ideas…your food allergies, your body, the way that you can’t quite get a handle on all of that.
I think the real deep down-dark stuff of what Georgia brings up for you, though, is the gold mine.
-s
Tegan
Delivering critical feedback to you has always inspired tension and hurt feelings between us. You are a successful artist, brilliant, and full of swagger. But, under the skin, there is insecurity and resentment that stems from your belief that my opinion matters more than anyone else’s. You also believe that I don’t hold your opinion in as high regard, and I know that is a significant wound. Does it matter that neither of those things is true?
In my experience, seeking approval from others has little to do with praise, and a great deal more to do with pain. And haven’t I hurt you more than anyone? These injuries are often minor--you claimed to be only “a little sad” when I admitted that I was struggling to trust your opinion of my new songs—-but the fact that I doubted you at all, seemed to distract from the larger truth, which was that I was no longer able to trust myself.
We’re not so different, because I too seek out the approval of those who’ve bruised me. And like you, I don’t ever find what I’m looking for. Or maybe it’s precisely the predictability of that searching and never finding that has us both in its grip. Rejection can register as a shock of electricity to a body gone numb; returning to the source of our first great rejection, reminds us that we are still alive.
I can’t quite tell you, then, what inspired me to tell you the truth, about the songs you were writing for our new album. And, because I’ve never asked, I don’t know why you responded to that feedback so tenderly. We both employ the “shit sandwich” when giving criticism to our colleagues. Which is a nice way of saying, we’re used to telling people what they’re doing wrong by reminding them of what they often do right. Reflecting on the first email I sent you last year, I wonder if that was what was missing from my approach, all along.
In any case, I think we wrote the best album of our career. This is objectively the truth, because here we are, twenty-six years into our creative process, trying to be better.
Sara
Is there someone in your life to whom you often deliver shit sandwiches?
Share this post