Music, Nostalgia & Divine Timing
"It was all, really, divine timing"
My dear friend Jules told me while peeling an orange, discarding the peel and pith onto the table. I struggled to hear them; we sat in a café with soaring ceilings, bare floors, and an open door leading to the next room, where a student played the grand piano. We tried shouting over the music, but the piano drowned us out. I considered asking the pianist for a brief respite – just for the duration of the interview – but that seemed inappropriate given the nature of our conversation: to discuss music. Granted, we were meant to focus specifically on Jules Alati's music, but I digress.
I met Alati while studying in Florence this fall semester. We quickly gravitated towards one another and bonded over music. Alati’s energy in a room is undeniably attractive – I have never seen anybody able to capture the attention and admiration of others as quickly as they can. After meeting Alati, you will hear pieces of them slip out amongst your regular dialogue; their vernacular is contagious, and everyone who spends time with them inevitably picks it up like a cold.
Alati had never produced music before, and although they had progressed through vocal training as part of their education, musical theater had always taken up the majority of their time and creative energy. From a young age, they created melodies on the guitar and wrote poetry and little songs. However, songwriting seemed to serve more as the perfect accessory – like signature bug sunglasses in Alati’s case – to complement their musical theater resume.
Alati continued their education in New York University’s New Studio on Broadway, where an assignment from an elective class led to the composition of their first single, “Subway Man.” The purpose of the single being to receive a good mark, Alati had not thought of the potential life span of "Subway Man" until their professor suggested that they try to extend it beyond the doors of academia. During their earlier years at NYU, they had been working at SweetGreen to earn a bit more pocket cash. Coincidentally, another student who produced music began working there as well. Divine Timing! Between assembling bowls and shaking salads during rush hour they connected over music and he offered to produce one of their tracks. Hence the birth of “Subway Man.”
Don’t let the limits of the classroom fool you, because this “Subway Man” is full of life! Taking inspiration from artists like Fiona Apple and Joni Mitchell, Alati meditates on the ruins of a young relationship, using scenes on the New York subway and interactions with desk clerks as a vehicle for reflection.
They begin “Subway Man” by painting a warm picture for the listener singing, “teacups and lampshades are spilling / inside my mind.” The song’s depth is able to permeate beyond romantic descriptions, unlike the ill-fated relationship they describe as “so shallow it’s reached the surface.” The lyrics, “I’m young and green / And not out of my head yet / If we’re gonna end / Tell me / Where’d we begin” seem to punch me in the back of the throat. They encapsulate the death of many young, green, relationships, the participants of which must climb out of their own heads, their own holes, in order to grow together. Alati is trying to climb out of their hole, while their partner enjoys digging his deeper.
Alati’s lyrics create a window into their personal relationship which we, as listeners, stand on the outside peering in. At times, they are able to pull us through the glass, such that we may join them on the inside, using their personal landscape for self-reflection. Alati’s storytelling abilities stick the listener in the middle of their relationship and, simultaneously, tell the listeners something about themselves. The lyrics, "God knows I'd listen to every word you have to say / I'm not even religious / It's just that kind of day" speak to our generation of twenty-somethings trying to find love in the unforgiving city of New York. The religious devotion born between two people in love seems to have taken the place of traditional religious practice for most. For New Yorkers, it seems the only religion we're truly subscribed to is one whose deity might mercifully control the L-trains on Halloween weekend.
Although Alati is a dear friend of mine and I've listened to them speak many times over a bottle of wine, their voice in "Subway Man" seems so familiar to somebody that I knew from before. I closed my eyes and tried to remember who it was. It was on the tip of my tongue, yet I couldn't place a name. It left me with a misplaced sense of nostalgia, a concept that Alati plans to explore in a new project when they return to New York.
The new project will consist of a re-recording of their two singles, “Subway Man” and “Colors, Mothers, Toddlers,” along with some new songs that Alati has been working on during their time studying in Florence. While Alati has drawn inspiration from older artists, they find new inspiration from artists releasing music currently like The Army The Navy, Dora Jar, and Aggie Miller. Alati’s interest in these artists originates from a sense of identification with them, as they admire how the artists blend multiple genres and create their own unique style, something Alati feels reflects their own approach.
They remember seeing Jar open for Billie Eilish and watching the artist crawl around on stage, expressing herself in a raw, loud way that Alati feels like a lot of artists shy away from. The way they dress, the way they move around on stage, their eerie choice of vocals inspires Alati to "get weird!"
There is an element to this eerie experimental music that gives it dimension. There is a certain analysis of a performance, of a piece of music, that must take place. This analysis may start with a bout of purely uncomfortable confusion, but it forces you to go back and listen to the piece more than once and hear it differently to appreciate the story building of songs.
“People are just happier here. I sit and I watch them gathering in the piazzas, enjoying their aperitivo, living their lives – and they seem happier” Alati says. I nod in agreement, because in many ways it’s true. “In New York, I live in my bubble – a selfish, creative bubble,” Alati explains, “I’ve always written about myself and my personal experiences, but Florence is compelling me to observe other people, to understand how they live.”
I almost forgot…Misplaced Nostalgia!
Alati has never lived in Europe, let alone Florence, but seems to feel a sense of familiarity in the city. Through their new project, they aim to create a space for observing others in the way they wish to observe themselves. This process creates a peculiar sense of misplaced nostalgia: “a feeling that you’re in a nostalgic place, but it has nothing to do with [you]”. Alati intends to blend the self-indulgence of New York with their newfound curiosity about Florence for their upcoming project.
I laugh, wondering if it might be too ambitious to establish a line of continuity given the inclusion of the two existing singles that represent an earlier version of Alati from a different time and place. This was my Achilles' heel, my slip of hubris. Doubting Alati’s capabilities would be akin to Def Jams’ drop of Gaga in 2006 – a serious mistake.
I've seen them wearing wildly patterned skirts with an equally wild top, accompanied by a striped scarf, novelty glasses, and a beanie – a devil-may-care style. They give the finger to any sort of fashion rules; why would I have thought the rules of music would be any different?
In response to my laugh, doubting the continuity of the project, Alati simply stated, “I am just wanting to understand the human condition, to understand how I love someone – it all comes from the same place.”
