Animal Collective “My Girls”

If a band wants to conjure up a satisfying series of earthy hippie brews, it seems like they’ll eventually have to mix in a bit of patriarchy. In an earlier period of my life, I might say about “My Girls” something like “Hey Noah, it’s all well and good that your intent isn’t to opt into ownership culture, but tell that to the possessive pronoun pertaining to the two most important women in your life.” A decade or so later, I sort of just want to say, “Lennox promises to ride for his ladies, and it sizzles like a forest rave.” But while the most engaging aspect of the song is not its ideology, it’s also true that Lennox wants his particular message heard loud and clear.

When all the song’s wonderfully subaqueous bottom-end drops away, and that booming, evangelical refrain emerges from a sea of glimmering electronics, it becomes clear that Lennox doesn’t simply want to peace out and and live off the land while making sure his ladies don’t get rained on. No, the first half of the “My Girls” refrain takes a step past, say, “Bro’s”: “I know myself, and I know what I want to do. I’m doing my best, and I want to know, is it good for you?” The first part of that refrain–”I don’t mean to seem like I care about material things, like they’re social stats”–changes this song into something very different, and something very current: self-obsessed protest in the midst of self-reflexive confession culture. Lennox wants to drop out, but he takes the unnecessary, extra step of pre-emptively silencing any armchair sociologists.*

That’s what makes this song personal and political. It’s how “My Girls” is protesting, in its own way, what, say, M.I.A. is celebrating: Neoliberal identity politics. “My Girls” is sweet and glittery, but like Person Pitch’s “Take Pills”, there’s an undercurrent of anxiety amidst the placidity. Like the star of his own zombie film, Lennox wants to escape the necessity of imagining himself in the same way that corporations do: as part of a social sphere set up like a market. His language betrays what he wants to escape–speaking statistically, in the same way that brands do.

Sure, “My Girls” is also, let’s be frank, this. But let’s not forget: If you’re Noah Lennox, your work and public image are thoroughly sedimented in the everyday practices of thousands of rabid fans, who feel like they know what’s best for you (man), and your career has been forged within a social realm which breeds a new understanding of intimacy between performers and audiences, and which thus breeds more opportunities to lose control of other non-material possessions (as in, your digital music, or your bandmate’s identity [that's not tape-trading, folks]).

I think Lennox is passionate and sincere on “My Girls”, and I don’t fault him one bit for looking over his shoulder when he tells us what he wants to do when he grows up. He’s just a simple guy, after all, who wants to try and make sure that what he’s sending out is the same as what gets picked up. A different kind of “controlling the message,” sure. But also, probably, a bit of paranoia.

*(All of which would be irritating as hell if the song didn’t also happen to be gorgeous. Like Screamadelica gorgeous–that kind of gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that makes wilding-out indie kids bump into arms-folded dudes at concerts [the indie refrain of 2006, btw] because they’re dancing like hippies.)

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