Put on a silly square cap, and together with another thousand of new Yale graduates listened to VP Joe Biden’s commencement speech. It is time to remember and recap.
But since I have another semester to go - due to my one-semester leave of absence - I will begin with an unusual rough draft of my Yale summary.
That’s because the one constant that contextualizes my four years here – experiences, feelings, goals – is Sara Bareilles. Sara Bareilles, who I was introduced to by my friends Hyun (Yale 2015) and Melanie (Harvard 2015). Sara Bareilles, whose indie pop never steps too far from everyday topics (love in particular), but who is in a class of her own – especially thanks to a clear artistic voice, which sounds from every song. Tori Amos is over it, Alanis Morissette rages, but Sara Bareilles? Her lyrics are smart and kind; adult, filled with self-awareness and vulnerability and an effort to be stronger, self-confident, independent.
(My weakness for Sara Bareilles – and Regina Spektor, Suzanne Vega and Mindy Gledhill – are an important reason why Hannah called my musical taste “a New York lesbian’s”. Of all the compliments I received at Yale, this one is my favorite.)
Sara will hopefully forgive me that I will use her songs for free associations about my four years at Yale. And y’all will just have to forgive me for thirty minutes of light pop I’m about to put you through.
The first song that I remember – which I used for my alarm clock, to great chagrin of everyone around, for most of senior year of high school and of freshman year at Yale – was King of Anything. Who cares if you disagree / You are not me… The fact that not only do I not need to admit anyone’s input into my choices, but I shouldn’t worry about possible reactions, is represented in Brave.
Dealing with ambition, the kind that cannot possibly be healthy, is an inseparable part of Yale as well. The defining song here is Butterflies and Hurricanes by Muse: Best, you’ve got to be best / You’ve got to change the world / And use this chance to be heard. Sara Bareilles, perhaps unintentionally, provides two antidotes or perhaps homeostatic measures: Morningside (Don't you dare let me start to do that / I don't care if the things that I have / Only make me afraid to lose / I need to let go) for times when ambitions run too high, and Let The Rain for times when a little more ambition wouldn’t hurt.
Songs about love and relationships – an important part of college life, want it or not – need no further comment. Gravity, Gonna Get Over You, Little Black Dress, but also Machine Gun; they all rang in my head at times, some more frequent than others.
Lastly, Yale already brings about a strong dose of nostalgia. Here, She Used To Be Mine dominates: it is a groan about the directions in which my Ivy years did not head. (Incidentally, this is a song that Sara sang at her April masterclass. That, too, is something I will miss.)
And then there are Yale songs that Sara Bareilles has nothing to do with. If I Had a Gun and The Scientist remind me of Jon and Juan, my freshman year suitemates; TaySwift and We’re Never Ever Getting Back Together remind me of my ironic sophomore year (like… ever), the terrible Rude and the better Let It Go of my junior year. Summers usually had a different soundtrack: MIKA for the Greek subway, La Femme d’Argent for long afternoons with Ruby on Rails, Cake for the junior-year International Cake Day, the KEXP Music That Matters podcast for the long TGV ride from Paris to Bordeaux.
Long nights over computer-science problem sets are irreversibly connected to Trent Reznor and his The Social Network sountrack, Vivaldi and his Four Seasons will always remind me of Directed Studies. And for motivational purposes, the years earning my BA added Murray Gold’s I Am The Doctor to McCreary’s Passacaglia.
My studies are not at an end. I still have a semester left; at its end, I will hand in my senior project and get a real Yale Diploma. In December, I will sit down and describe in some detail how Yale changed me and my opinions.
I am certain to collect some more indie pop in the meantime.
2024 © THE KELLNER FAMILY FOUNDATION