Adam Schatz is a musician, writer, record producer and human being. His band Landlady has four records out and another on the way called Make Up / Lost Time. Hear Landlady here. He tours with Japanese Breakfast and Neko Case. His writing has been published in Creem Magazine, the New York Times and co-created the ever evolving touring musician’s food database Tourfood.US.
(Photo Credit: Sasha Arutyunova.)
Good morning, world, here we are together again. That clock on the wall doesn’t lie: it’s time for Problem Solving with Adam Schatz, the monthly column that answers the question “What if someone could have too much time on their hands and also look underslept?” Now, you’re probably wondering how there could be any problems left to solve after the incredible work we’ve done here so far, yet this world continues to be a generative factory floor of troublesome nonsense, and together we’ve got to sort it all out.
This month’s issue is a simple one, a concern that didn’t exist until recently, and perhaps will go away soon enough. I’m of course referring to how…
Everyone Is Talking About Benson Boone’s Backflips
Aside from the fact that the alliteration is downright irresistible, the general public and critics alike are positively tickled that the handsome young American singer can belt out a catchy tune and also successfully land a backflip. At Coachella, he flipped a quickie off the top of the grand piano, making an absolute mockery of a grand piano lid’s primary purpose which is for other people to have a place to put their drinks.
The craze is understandable. As a society, we’re primed and ready for some good old fashioned feats of strength. We’ve seen P!nk sing a full song while being tossed back and forth between two giant robot baseball mitts 50 feet above the audience. We’ve seen Katy Perry go to outer space in a rocket ship with a gas tank fueled by her denial of Dr. Luke’s allegations. But Benson Boone’s Bananas Backflips are proof of classical human stick-to-itiveness. No crew is required, no cables or machines, just a pair of knees and a dream that dares to be dreamt. The tangibility of the backflip is what makes it all the more inspiring. Perhaps if we work just a little bit harder we, too, could one day make the impossible possible. And maybe we can do it without being carted off in an ambulance afterwards.
So what’s the problem? Well, aside from the demise of music journalism being punctuated by headlines about a backflip, the bigger issue here is that nobody is talking about the things that I can do. With Benson Boone’s Bountiful Backflip Bonanza taking over the news cycle, the multitudes my doctor promised I contain are being completely ignored. This illuminates a deeply concerning trajectory the press has taken towards focusing on people who aren’t me.
But I can do all sorts of stuff. Like Benson Boone, I also am a singer of songs. Like Benson Boone, I have an abdomen that is between one and six packs full. In addition to that, I can also:
- Do the taco shape with my tongue.
- Walk on a treadmill set to a 20 degree incline and tell which Fanning is Elle and which is Dakota if you hold up their photos.
- Get your nose.
- Jump up and click my heels after receiving good news.
- Correctly identify North, given four guesses.
- Button a shirt with the buttons on the left side.
- Make the three leaf clover shape with my tongue.
- Drive with my knees while texting with my toes.
- Share my Hulu password with up to two parents.
- Jump up and swat at the bottom of a basketball net.
- Correctly point out which constellations are not the Big Dipper.
- Frame a deputy mayor for embezzlement of public funds.
And while I was not raised in and then left the Church of Latter Day Saints like Benson Boone, I can promise that my narrative of attending a suburban Hebrew school but wishing I was at home using Napster is an equally compelling origin story.
Once again you probably think this is all about me and my debilitating consumption with my own success and image viewed through the public eye. It’s not. In fact, I’m actually looking out for the rest of the musical slobs who have a hard enough time tying their shoes without tweaking a neck muscle that they didn’t know was there. What about them? What about us?
One might think the answer to this problem is a training camp where the up-and-coming entertainers of the world can learn how to do their own feats of strength, giving them a chance at qualifying for Benson Boone’s Benevolent Backflip Benefit for Born-Agains Who Couldn’t Do Backflips Before. But you’d be wrong. If we keep upping the stakes, someone is going to get seriously hurt, and this hubris will be our collective undoing. Let us not forget when Icarus tried to do a double kickflip and accidentally ollied into the sun.
Additionally, this try-hard do-good energy is having a negative impact on music as a whole. It was one thing when The Pips could crush three-part choreography and sing incredibly well. But these days it’s either the impressive physical feat or the music being good, and if I’ve gotta pick one, I’m going to pick the music.
Quiet your booing! And your Bruce-ing! I believe I’ve found the solution.
What if, for one year, we only allow (force) historic musical slackers to perform impressive feats of strength during their shows? Imagine… Stephen Malkmus plays a guitar solo while standing on top of a Rivian as it jumps the Grand Canyon. Mac DeMarco spins a basketball on his right hand’s index finger while filing an extension for his 2024 tax return with his left hand. J Mascis recites the state capitals while going through a car wash on a tandem bicycle with a Marshall stack feeding back on the rear seat. This would balance the scales and probably reverse global warming.
We have to take back the narrative. The stories we amplify now simply can’t be in the category of Attractive Person Does Multiple Things Well. If those stories continue to dominate, the gap will irreparably widen between the Benson Boones of the world and those of us who are talented but also don’t like to stretch. If this goes too far, pretty soon we’ll all be in farms hooked up to machines keeping our bodies alive so that Benson Boone can Borrow a Bone every time he wants to do another flip. If you think I’m being extreme then you clearly aren’t getting your news from the same guy behind the CVS that I am.
Despite all of my curmudgery and the anonymous letters I’ve sent, I do not fault Benson Boone. He has an incredible gift. I just think it has no place on the concert stage. What I can only hope for is that when I pay full price to watch Mission: Impossible — The Final Reckoning, the Paramount logo will fade off the screen and the soft focus of an Imax lens will sharpen on the middle C of a piano on a stage. We follow the finger above to key all the way up to reveal Benson Boone’s face. He looks up to see Tom Cruise backflip out of a blimp, landing on Benson Boone’s shoulders and, as one super-dude, they crab walk all the way to the steps of the Pentagon where they turn to camera and sing a duet thanking us for coming to the cinema.
I think we’d all prefer to live in a world where that would be possible as opposed to everything else happening at the moment. Though honestly I’m not too up to date on current events, I’ve mostly been spending my time looking up words that start with “B.”
Well, I’m glad we got all that sorted. We’ve done great work here. Until next time, keep your head on your shoulders, your eyes to the skies, and your feet below your head, where they belong.
If you’re in NY, be sure to go see Landlady tonight, May 28, at Littlefield in Brooklyn.
