Super-Connected

A reflection on the meaning of words and how creativity is born from creativity.

Feb 02, 2026

Are there heart strings connected
To the poison coming out of your mouth?
Are you super-connected? - Belly, Super-Connected, King

Back in October, I had an artist residency in Centerville, South Dakota. As usual, I led a handful of classes in creating their own comics. Mid-week when we were on a good roll, I took the opportunity to play music while kids work. Rural kids know pop music, and they love country music. They’ve never heard of ska, and they’ve almost never listened to bands like R.E.M. or Oingo Boingo. I have a specific taste that is often niche, and I can’t help myself but curate songs for these classrooms.

I know it, you know it, and everyone knows that I am currently in a state in which I cannot stop listening to Belly. In fact, it’s a whole Tanya Donelly kick. Whether it’s Belly, Throwing Muses, The Breeders, or her independent work, I have been spinning Tanya’s tracks constantly. Having the opportunity to play music in Centerville was an opportunity to spread the Tanya Donelly around.

Kids always find my taste to be unusual. Their parents and I might be the same age, but we’re from vastly different worlds. Sometimes I find a kid that’s actually listened to Nirvana, but it’s rare. I’ve noticed students are surprised to hear women create music that doesn’t sound just like Taylor Swift and the other popstars they’re constantly hearing, so Tanya feels like a gift to share.

In Centerville, one young lady mentioned to me that I listen to spooky music. I was taken aback. I mean, it did track a bit, but it felt off. First, we listened to select Oingo Boingo songs. As the thesis I am bound to write will state: Oingo Boingo created the sound of Halloween as we know it. It was October and I had to play some. However, she didn’t share her opinion until I played Belly. I didn’t know how to react to the sentiment.

I attach myself to music in the same way I latch on to movies and books. For me, it’s about the writing. Genre, like all storytelling, is simply the clothing that dresses up a song or a band. Sure, there’s a janglepop vibe I’m attracted to, but it’s typically the lyrical quality that I stay for. I hear stories that I get hooked on in Tanya’s song writing. I’ve never thought about anything she’s produced as spooky. I had to sincerely chew on that kid’s opinion.

I was shipwrecked with this frog
Who was endlessly testing my faith
He made out outrageous demands
I ignored him
‘Til I strapped on my boat feet and
Surfed into shore
He’s not touching me anymore - Belly, Untogether, Star

I think that student only drove me more towards playing Belly more and more. Something I’ve been able to accept is that the vast majority of the music I love has something dark to it. I’m not here for death metal and overt aggression. There’s something I prefer to things that have a cursory sound that isn’t overtly dark. Most of the jangle and grunge I hold onto is recorded in minor keys, but that’s not consistent. Sometimes you can jangle as upbeat as you want, and still harbor something moody and dark. Just like my love of ska, you can record something groovy to dance to that has the lyrical quality of something somber. There’s something magical there.

When I look at acts that top my list of favorites, they, in some way, embrace these themes. That’s probably why my friend, and colleague, Dave Wheeler says I listen to, “sad boy,” music. I’ve fought the claim for so long, but I think he’s probably right.

I’m often a bizarre, or clownish, character. Cathryn once described spending time with me like being in a sitcom. I talk to inanimate objects when I’m nervous or excited, and strange things happen to me in memorable ways. I struggle not to make everything a joke when I’m in public, but inside I’m stewing on something. My life can sound like the horns of Bite Me Bambi while having the inner content of Garbage. In ska terms, it’s all very Streetlight Manifesto.

Tanya Donelly can deliver the darkness with ease. Belly records and performs songs that belong on pop stations yet build stories about loss, death, and struggling against tyrannical legal systems. That’s what I hear in my head when I think about fighting a good fight. We have to be able to turn the fight into a dance, even if it feels like grim work. Tanya’s mastery is delivering one helluva vocal range that I can only describe as haunting. It’s ethereal and sets a mood I cannot get enough of.

So now I make you pray now
Now I make you pray now
Now I make you pray like there’s a God - Belly, L’il Ennio, King

Moods have created all the stories I’ve fallen in love with. The stories that make me want to make stories. It’s complex and dichotomous.

I used to consider myself a voracious reader and film watcher. Both ignite something in me that puts pencil to paper. I have spent the last several years, though, criticizing myself for reading less and less and taking in new films as infrequently as ever. It feels like a tragedy we’re all experiencing. These damnable smartphones have us hooked on scrolling and looking at pictures, or flipping through reels. I tell myself almost daily, “I’m not gobbling up stories the way I ought to.”

It’s not true, however. My hands and eyes may be co-opted and consumed in my phone, and I ought to work on that. But my ears are still my own. I’m still listening to things that make me want to act. Sharing Belly with a bunch of teenagers pushed me even further into loving them and exploring the full catalogue Tanya Donelly has crafted. Somehow having to reckon with the fact that her work might be spooky has me tearing apart lyrics like never before. Tanya creates letters to her readers that reveal something inside us all while crafting new and meaningful folk stories. It’s better than my favorite meal because I just can’t stop consuming it.

I owe it to that kid, to Dave, to Tanya, to jangle, to ska, to Michael Stipe, and many more for revealing to me how much it matters that everything I do has some darkness in it. My superheroes aren’t perfect boy scouts, in Champions. My pinups aren’t bright and bubblegum, they’re moody even when they’re sensual. We’re complex creatures who can party the night away, even when we know we’re the only ones who can stop the world from burning down.