“(forgetting) sarah marshall”
Welcome back and welcome home to all music Lovers in the greater Wilmington area. We find ourselves gathered here, back again on yet another Monday, in the familiar and fond embrace of our arena of communal discovery, an arena built in the longing for an in-tune connection with the music made around us. This week we are beyond thrilled to introduce Doggy Daycare and their new single, “(forgetting) sarah marshall,” for our Song of the Week.
Review and Exposition
For those who may not know, this isn’t the first time that this song has seen the light of day, only the first time in its renewed vision. “(forgetting) sarah marshall,” was released earlier this same year, by an artist under the same name currently in use. “sarah marshall,” was released on a solo project by Adam Bastug, a love letter to his friends he appropriately named, I Love My Friends, under the alias Doggy Daycare. The project ostensibly arose out of some desire by Adam, possibly more fitting to describe it as an intrinsic need, to declare an appreciation and acknowledge an acceptance. He gives thanks to those who have sustained him and seen him into the present light, and to acknowledge a readiness to see himself emerge to a higher place, welcome to the embrace of the more pleasant offerings of this world. This understanding that Bastug reached within himself allowed him to proclaim on I Love My Friends, “I’m so afraid, to let things begin/ Love is so pretty, I wanna let some in.”
I think my favorite outcome of the re-releasing of “(forgetting) sarah marshall,” is best exemplified in the retelling of the line, “January makes me numb.” It’s almost as if the addition of his friends into this intimate space, sought out for his own personal exploration, empowers Adam to recreate the meaning and shift the weight behind his own words. “sarah marshall,” is crafted around a sound that exudes from a place of crippling isolation. The burdensome load that brought Bastug to the creation of the record is felt penetratingly in the line as his pitch rises as quickly as it falls, giving way to a feeling of utter exasperation as he finds himself dealing with another lonesome January. Not that the weight previously shared is gone or suddenly lifted with the re-recording, but when you hear Adam screaming at another numbing January, it feels channeled through a lens that has been shaped by the wrestling with that weight and by that act enables it to be reborn. Therein lies the gift of a retelling as it marks a place where we are compelled to return to our creation renewed in some way. For Adam the gift comes with the emergence of Doggy Daycare, reenvisioned with the inclusion of three close friends: Ethan Jenkins on bass, Connor Simpson on drums, and a twin flame standing close by on guitar and vocals, Josh Sullivan, that legitimizes and broadens what was dispatched on the solo record.
“(forgetting) sarah marshall,” as it exists in its new form, is an act in the service of healing. The re-release presents an actualization of the desire to begin anew as it meets with the willingness to let love in. The melancholic distortions and looping instrumentation of the old track are amplified and rejuvenated as they are reimagined by the now unified whole of Doggy Daycare. The dynamic departures between tracks are made further noticeable in lines such as, “I don’t feel you anymore,” and ultimately in the delivery of, “I’ve never been enough.” Anyone who was fortunate enough to make it out to the Place’s last show understands the power that now is at hand when these four take to the stage as one. Doggy Daycare delivered a passionate performance that encompassed the rage found in a room that was shaped by the loss of something communally loved. I believe that somewhere in that bridge between the rampant individuality we fall into, and the shared realizations we can find in common, is the new sound of Doggy Daycare. Perhaps best expressed as the coming together of our communal power that conveys the same heart wrenching sentiments that were found by one alone, but with the reorganization comes a new capacity for its deliverance to the world at large.
What’s Next
Usually I like to follow the review of the song with what is next in store for an artist, be it upcoming dates and locations of where to find them perform or potentially any new releases that we should be aware of. Though there may be rumors of a complete re-recording of I Love My Friends, (and I believe we all would love to see that come to fruition), I believe we shouldn’t put pressure on an artist to be guided by any external force but by their innate sense of where to venture. So in conclusion I would like to offer a bit of a love letter to Adam and to the rest of Doggy Daycare, sincerely from just a fan.
Adam, for whatever it is worth, you are one of my favorite musicians here
I see myself reflected in the music you offer
and find a welcoming comfort that I’m sure others share with you as well
In my time I try not to detach the distance between sorrow and joy, because they work in tandem as most things seem to
I continually try to find appreciation for the peaks, and understanding in the valleys they carve into our perceptions of the world around us
And it is hard. Almost always, I find myself overwhelmed and far too often Ill-equipped to handle the divide alone
I too, find myself not enough.
But I hold a belief that we can resolve our contradictions, both mine and ours, through communal struggle
Seeing our material conditions cared for in line with our more spiritual needs
Helping us to actualize the potential of both ourselves and our communities
And I think you really did something of that nature here
Maybe there is a comfort to be found in learning that we have nothing to be enough for,
and I understand if that comfort is only built out of a viscous wrestling with ourselves.
What if we all made a pact to learn how we can each let love in?
Ben “Danger” Matthews | PCE
Chief Word Person
The Port City Experiment 