Background
Over the weekend, a little piece I wrote on the soundtrack for I Saw the TV Glow dropped on Musicology Now, and while I might have already told most of you about it in some way or another, I thought I’d take a minute to write some notes about the publishing process.
It began almost a year ago, when, last May, my friend Alyx texted me: “I haven’t seen I Saw the TV Glow yet but it’s giving Big Feelings.” I had been meaning to see the film anyway, seduced by its ‘90s imagery and the kind of ambiguous trailer that never really helps you understand what kind of film it’s going to be. But seeing a string of (the kinds of) artists who I write about in my book lined up on the soundtrack like that made me literally and figuratively sit up straight.1
Then my friend Raechel wrote about the soundtrack in a way that really resonated with me, reflecting something about the culture in which I grew up, and making clear how the film stages ‘90s nostalgia comprehensively, looping in sound as a part of its overall worldbuilding. Having just finished the final draft of my book, I had been writing for years about the ways that contemporary indie bands were manipulating timbres, song structures, and other musical gestures that have been associated with ‘90s popular music in order to reappropriate music that was, the first time around, overwhelmingly associated with the emotional concerns of white men, taking back sounds they loved by transforming them in new contexts and for new listeners.2 The soundtrack for I Saw the TV Glow (ISTTVG) seemed to recognize this fact, and tap many of those same musicians in order to help reinforce the film’s own nostalgic lean, lending an appropriately (new) old sound to the movie’s (new) old visual language.
This was exciting enough on its own. But the part that really shook me up was seeing the two covers on the soundtrack: yeule’s of “Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl” and Snail Mail’s of “Tonight, Tonight.” In Big Feelings, the Smashing Pumpkins play a specific, strange, but ultimately significant role in part because they were the band that really catalyzed my love of rock music, a love that compelled everything else about the wayward unfolding of my musical life and which animates Big Feelings in ways that I didn’t anticipate.
Moreover, Broken Social Scene generally and “Anthems” particularly appear as protagonists in the first chapter of my book, where I write, “Insofar as it is helpful to locate a ‘first’ Big Feelings record, we could do worse than pointing to Broken Social Scene’s 2002 breakout You Forgot It in People.” On a soundtrack featuring almost entirely original music, for the two cover songs chosen to directly reflect the same influences that I also thought mattered for this moment in indie rock was a kind of validation of ideas that I had, at best, hoped would resonate with people, hoped would accurately reflect and do some measure of justice to the experiences and worldviews of a generation that reached back into my childhood for inspiration, but whose experiences are ultimately different from my own.
Musicology Now
All of which is to say that I really wanted to write about this soundtrack. I pitched the idea a few places, including my beloved Cleveland Review of Books—but no one bit.3 Then, at AMS, I saw a publishing roundtable where someone (eep I sort of forget who) talked about publishing at Musicology Now, an independent, public-facing outlet associated with the American Musicological Society, which publishes short (ca. 2000-word) pieces that are engaging both for scholars and general music enthusiasts.4 I really enjoyed hearing about what the folks involved are trying to do with this publication, so I decided to try pitching there next.
In all transparency, part of the reason I wanted to to write a specific, standalone article about this soundtrack is also because it felt like a great way to promote my book. Presses will often encourage authors to find outlets that will accommodate short essays serving to introduce the book’s main ideas, and therefore, though dedicated to a discrete topic, also helping to indirectly promote the book (i.e. “if you liked reading about this, you’re sure to enjoy the book-length treatment!”). The problem is, timing these kinds of essays in advance of the book—while also publishing on a subject that is topical and relevant for someone else’s publication—can be quite the challenge.
I bring this up because it informed my first take on the essay, which was much more about previewing arguments from my book than the final version that was published. At Musicology Now, one of the really interesting things about their approach is that they send your essays out for peer review (!) despite their brevity. In my case, helpful reviewers thought the piece was relatively ready, but that the framing was too oriented around a book that was really an aside from the actual topic at hand—the soundtrack for this film. So my revisions were geared towards removing references to my other work and instead contextualizing the role of critical nostalgia—nostalgia that advances a social critique of the present, rather than longing to return to a time gone by.
It was super helpful to have smart and formal feedback from anonymous reviewers, even on a piece this short. If you’re looking to sharpen your public-facing writing, pitching MN is a great opportunity to do so. It can be a challenge for academics to engage this mode (no footnotes allowed!!)—but whether you consider it practice for other journalistic outlets or just a good way to get peer feedback without committing to a 10,000 word essay, I think there are all kinds of benefits from a writer’s perspective to pitching this publication in particular. Beyond the peer reviewers, the team I worked with was super kind, receptive and helpful throughout the entire process. They were also patient with me at various points (especially because my essay is a bit long), and offered all kinds of constructive feedback along the way. Maybe check it out? Cry hard?
Hello! Please forgive me for the fact that probably every post I write between now and October will include a reminder that you can save 40% on my book by using the code “PREORDERS25” at checkout! Preorders help authors and presses alike in part for the information they provide about interest in the project and potential future printing needs : )
The best description of this dynamic I’ve ever read, and the one I think about every time I talk about this phenomenon, is Lex McMenamin’s, from this profile of boygenius. They write, “There is something radical in making music that we came to love in part through bands I won’t name because they’ve been accused of abusing women and their fans. Raised on 90s alternative and 2000s emo and pop punk in the shadow of the Iraq War, Boygenius is making the music they never got to have.”
This happens! (To me!) A lot! Especially (I think!) when academics reach out to trade publications! I try to not to take it personally, but sometimes it stings. I say this not to moan on my own behalf but to disclose that from my experience it’s really hit or miss with this kind of thing, and to encourage you (and me) not to feel discouraged by rejection. Most recently, I pitched three writers at Pitchfork plus the team at Hearing Things on a review of the Ophelias’ latest record, which I had INTERVIEW MATERIAL about. And everyone still passed!
I don’t know how much of this is of interest to readers, but for better and worse, part of my aim for this newsletter is to address folks in academia generally and popular music studies specifically. So you know, as always, skip on out if irrelevant.