Texting a friend the other night about Paul Mescal’s Emmy nomination (well deserved, but I wish I’d seen Daisy’s name alongside him), I’ve realised that I measure time by the art that I consume. Since March, there have been phases of lockdown defined by the TV shows I’m watching, the music I’m listening to, or the books I’m reading. The Normal People phase seems like years ago, doesn’t it? we said. Remember giggling about that picture of Paul in his shorts and his tins of gin?
I’ve found that three television shows have defined my phases of lockdown. I’m currently on the fourth; switching between New Girl and Parks and Recreation every few episodes. The easy escapism of these two let my mind switch off, and I think it really needs to switch off. But before now, it started with Normal People, then Euphoria (a rewatch from last summer), and I May Destroy You. It was their soundtracks that made an imprint on me, just as much as their content.
Each of these soundtracks are infused with the rhythms, characters, and places of the shows. Taking place across three countries, these shows have such specific attachments to their locations.
Normal People’s small fictional Irish town ‘Carricklea’ (filmed in County Sligo) and scenes of Trinity in Dublin are central to the feeling of the show. I have been to Dublin twice, and although I’ve never been to Sligo, I have been to Clonakilty in Cork (which is in the South, but it’s by the sea too). Dublin is certainly my favourite city in the world, and seeing the Trinity library, the river, and the pubs was what really made me love the show.
These landscapes are paired with the songs of Elliot Smith, Nick Drake, and Frank Ocean which ebb and flow with the tides of the beaches where Marianne and Connell try to figure each other out. These gentle, yearning tracks are interspersed with upbeat pop, like Carly Rae Jepson’s ‘Too Much’ and Selena Gomez’s ‘Rare’, which set the show firmly in now. These songs pull us into 2020, yet there’s no indication that Connell and Marianne are in the present day (except for that one Face Time scene). When everyone deemed it a millennial love story, that never rang true for me. There’s no mention of apps or social media, which play a huge part in dating now, whether we like it or not. Instead, I think their story tries to be timeless in a way that can never be real. But isn’t that the joy of fiction? To swim into stories that aren’t about now, they’re just stories told for the sake of the telling.
Similarly, Euphoria’s magic is in the dreamlike, drugged up, hyperbolic atmosphere. Characterised by its eccentric make-up looks, beautiful cast, and moody, colourful lighting, Euphoria transports viewers to highschool in the LA suburbs. Zendaya’s Emmy nom feels completely deserved, not least for the final (spoilers) scene which sees her sing ‘All of Us’ with Labrinth and perform a wild dance routine that takes her through her childhood, her drug addiction, her recovery, and finally her relapse. The Euphoria soundtrack mostly sets up the endless parties and voiceover sequences, so much so that it feels like you’re never left to sit with what you’re watching. Even when Rue (Zendaya) can’t get out of bed to use the bathroom, Love Island plays on repeat in the background. For this show, music is a drug that takes you out of your body and into the show. ‘Mount Everest’ by Labrinth, ‘you should see me in a crown’ by Billie Eilish, or Arcade Fire’s ‘My Body is a Cage’ demonstrate the way Euphoria exudes this subtle magnitude. Everything from walking down a school hallway, to shopping at the mall is made magical and epic.
Michaela Coel’s I May Destroy You has received so much well deserved praise in the past month. Like Normal People, it is twelve 30 minute episodes, released two episodes at a time on BBC iPlayer. Coel shows London how it really looks - busy, messy, and totally varied from one street to the next - and Ciara Elwis’ soundtrack reflects that. It curves through dancefloor, grime, alternative and pop. Highlights for me were Arlo Parks’ ‘Cola’, Janelle Monae’s ‘Pynk’, Little Simz, and Sons of Kemet. Her skill is creating music that lives as a character in the show alongside Coel’s protagonist, Arabella. The opening chords of a song are like new lines of dialogue, speaking back to the characters who so often can’t hear anyone other than themselves.
So when I think about these songs, I think about the shows. And when I think about the shows, I think about sitting on my sofa, curled up in my bed, about cups of tea in my hand, or about sneaking in an episode in between meetings. And the thing is, that’s no different than in the ‘before’.
TV is time to be alone, in your home, and to mediate on lives other than your own. It’s the music that reminds what it was like to be in a crowded room, dancing on a table, or out at a bar, or in an exercise class, or at a festival, or on the tube, or in a cafe. Something that's just for me, and something that’s meant to be shared; usually more balanced, less nostalgic. Not that I want to soundtrack my life but, well, it’d be nice to have the chance wouldn’t it.