2016 will go down in history as generally a “rough one”.



Personally, I’ll consider 2016 as the year I lit a bunch of fires in my life and either: let the fire burn out its fuel, allowed the flames to become all-consuming, or conceded the ashes to tell me of my future. By the end of December, I’m usually tallying up all my sins, reviewing the damage I’ve done, and turning into a guilt-ridden mess asking the questions: Will I ever become the good person I should be? The person I want to be?

Car Seat Headrest’s album, Teens of Denial, seems to be a stark portrait of the overthinkers that I, admittedly, identify with. The people who spend their hours asking the same questions: What have I done? What am I doing? What will I be doing? And what does it all mean about the person I am?” Will Toledo uses the classical literary conflict of man vs. self as the vehicle of story-telling in Teens of Denial and no song embodies this better than the 11-minute epic “The Ballad of Costa Concordia.”

“The Ballad of Costa Concordia” is named after a tragedy that occurred when a cruise ship capsized killing 32 people. The captain, Francesco Schettino, was publicly shamed and persecuted for abandoning ship before many passengers could be rescued. The use of the infamous ship’s name isn’t an ode to the fatal wreck, but a metaphor for what it represents. How a little poor judgement, a touch of irrational thinking, and a load of overwhelming emotion can set ruin to, not only our own lives, but the lives of others.

“Costa Concordia” starts in a moment I’ve come recognize. It’s an instant that occurs right after anger. The ship has hit the rocks and there’s a wound to prove it. Now, its has begun to tip starboard. This is the moment when the careful balance of reality begins to tilt and your own conscious begins to weave a destructive narrative. This is where Toledo decides to start his story.

In these moments, when I’m feeling the blowback of my latest trespass, I tend to ask myself: How did I even get here? Why did I do that? Will echoes the sentiment in his lyrics:

If only I could sustain my anger, feel it grow

stronger and stronger.

It sharpens to a point and sheds my skin

Shakes off the weight of my sins

And takes me to heaven

That’s the funny thing about anger, right? If anger didn’t leave us, we could live with the assurance that our actions are valid and our transgressions were warranted. If the wound always hurt, we wouldn’t have to deal with regret or sadness. Toledo understands this too well and, and like all of the emotion expressed on Denial, these feelings of repentance do not flow outward, they rush inward…invading sanity like a poison. And just as the seawater rushed into the engine room of the Costa Concordia dragging the ship and its passengers into the sea, Will’s emotions drag him into a depths unknown.

The “ship”, serving as Toledo’s mind, is now half submerged. The sane part of the mind, still visible on the surface, keeps one eye on reality and how the world is (Maybe you think / I’ll learn from my mistake.) The other half of the mind descends into an unfamiliar ocean of irrational thought and incorrect conclusions (But not this time / It’s just gonna break me.)

At this moment, Will can try and bring order to his mind, create an emergency plan and execute it; saving the relationships that may be drowning. Will Toledo decides to do none of these things. Like Captain Schettino, Will abandons ships, jumps off the edge, paddling a lifeboat to shore where he can watch the mayhem progress from a safe distance.

I won’t go down with this shit

I will put my hands up and surrender

There will be no more flags above my door

I have lost, and always will be

I feel that I’ve taken this emergency escape hatch in my own life at times. Damned be the drowners, damned be the people depending on me. I resign myself to a fate of madness and conflicts unresolved where the ghosts of past regrets rattle their chains down the hallways of my heart.

Genius appropriately has labeled this next part of the song as “[Breakdown]” and I’m hardpressed to agree. As Toledo gives into the inner monologues of a self-defeating mind, I can’t help but flash back to my own painful surrenders on lonely Friday nights. Alone, by yourself, half-heartedly tying your mind to some sort of personal mantra to hold onto. In this case, Will decides to reside himself to the words “It was an expensive mistake”. The ship of your life is sinking in the oceans of insanity. Watching from the shore, you repeat your mantra. The one thing that may still get you out of this.

Your friendships crumble, your relationships die, and your sense of belonging shrivels. As your life sinks further into the ocean, you can’t help but think of every single choice, decision, moment that brought you to right here. The abandoner. The refuser. The denier. The liar. The deceiver. The coward. Will begins listing off everything that has led to his moment.

How was I supposed to know how to hold a job?

How was I supposed to remember to grab my backpack after I set it down to play basketball?

How was I supposed to know not to get drunk every Thursday, Friday, Saturday and — why not — Sunday?

I’ve done the same. My snapshots are a little different: If I had just washed the dishes, would she still be my friend? If I hadn’t drank all those beers, would I still have said all those things? If I didn’t send that text, would we not hate each other as much?

You can’t say you’re sorry and its over

I was given a body that is falling apart

My house is falling apart

And I was given a mind that can’t control itself

And I was given a ship that can’t steer itself

It was an expensive mistake.

By the end of this breakdown, Will’s yelling.

By the end of my breakdown, my inner voice is screaming, “It was an expensive mistake!”

It’s not about what I’ve done, or what I’ve said. I’m reckoning with God. (And God won’t forgive me / And you won’t forgive me) If this is the life He meant for me: watching my own sinking ship from the shore with no one else to blame but myself, then is this life worth living?

Will asks a pointed question at this point. The last lyrics to leave a brain in a hurricane of fragmented thoughts and emotions that no sensible conclusion could ever emerge from.

How many nights have I drowned here?

How many nights have I drowned?

How many times have I been here? Regretting everything? Hating myself? Asking if there’s a point to living this life? Have I seen these tear stains before? These thoughts looks familiar but the characters have changed. It’s a different room, but I swear I’ve cried on this floor before.

It was an expensive mistake.

What set this off again? How did I get here? I need to go to sleep.

Finally the song moves into its third and final act. And it decisively has a day-after vibe. It changed from the sonically muffled and confusing sounds of a man losing his mind, to an almost euphoric fuck-all attitude.

Now this isn’t to say anythings fixed, or better, or different. Madness still grips him and the ship is still fucking toppled over in the water. But fuck it? Might as well just get up and live the day. Sure, you might be put on trial later for abandoning all those who depended on you. You’ll probably have another of these breakdowns coming because you didn’t really resolve much last night. You just thought yourself into madness and eventually exhaustion. You’ve probably made a horrible mistake.

Cause our life is one of survival

The decisions we’ve made, if you can call it deciding

With your life on the line, it’d be social suicide to

change your mind

But Toledo knows this isn’t the correct solution to come to, or the right way to approach practically losing touch with reality. It is, however, how he’s choosing to cope. (He sings I give up, on repeat, 5x’s, louder and louder until his voice cracks)

I’ve done this many mornings. Waking up from the daze of almost reaching the brink of your own thoughts. What would’ve happened if I didn’t just go to sleep? Who knows. But in some sense, I’ve taken the same path Toledo chose in his song. And in many instances, I just erase the night from my mind. I give up trying to tackle it.

I walk into the next day, just as Toledo does when he murmurs the only words of comfort to appear in the whole song, at the end:

I love you, I love you, I love you