Well, folx, I’ve been on vacation but now I’m back and ready to bring on the angst again. That’s just a perennial thing. Nobody delivered angst quite like John Lennon. He may not have invented confessional songwriting – or did he? – but he was a master of it. The thing about being a good writer of angsty things that a lot of aspiring emo kids seem to miss, is that you can’t aim for pathos. You have to be honest, with yourself and your audience, and have enough self-awareness to acknowledge that a) your angst may not always be as well earned as you think, and b) it’s kind of an unattractive quality and most people don’t find it very endearing. We’re still drawn to the music of John Lennon because he had a lot of genuinely well-earned angst, but he didn’t pretend that the personality traits and coping mechanisms he developed as a result of childhood trauma made him a cuter person. That shit ain’t cute. Being dysfunctional and unhappy are not aesthetic choices. John Lennon’s musical career is basically the narrative of a man trying, with intermittent success, to be less of a piece of shit.