Nostalgia is a powerful drug steeped in the memories of memories and layered in a fond yearning for the past. It often comes with the association of “simpler times”. However, it is not just a positive feeling towards this past - it is also indicated by a discomfort with the configuration of the present, prompting this desire to return to a time when you were seemingly delighted by the state of things. This discomfort in the present is an interesting phenomenon. Why does change or exposure to a new incident trigger this innate need to return to the past? Camus’s writings on absurdism, especially “The Myth of Sisyphus” give some insight into this. The entirety of the human experience is based on nostalgia, not in the traditional sense of the word, but rather a tendency towards coherency and unification of the world’s random occurrences into tangible meaning. Humans have an innate desire to rationalize and logic away the entropy of their existence. Camus pushes back against this notion, urging us to revel in the fact that nothing is predetermined or narratively coherent. Rather than condemning ourselves to be lost in the vast indifference of our ontology, we should stand in awe of the infinite wealth of possibility and incredulity and plunge headfirst into the uncertainty. This very conflict is the place from which nostalgia is borne. Camus’ aesthetics are a product of this uncertainty, as art is found within the synthesis of ideas from the absurdity that surrounds us.

A fifth-wave emo album hardly seems like the next stepping stone into this tirade on nostalgia, but that is where Home is Where’s 2020 record I Became Birds finds itself. This album from the Florida-based outfit has all the musical stylings of an excellent emo album with beautiful medleys of folksy harmonica riffs and anthemic, punchy chords, yet its lyrics are much more on the side of absurdity - “Altar boys curb stop the mall Santa Claus \ Wearing high heels 'cause the TV’s unplugged” from Long Distance Conjoined Twins is a personal favorite. This album and this song in particular is a perfect representation of the Hegelian dialectic between the absurd and the known that synthesizes a feeling of immense nostalgia. The decadent instrumentation that will appeal to the sensibilities of many an emo-head, the scratchy Dylan-esque vocals and inflections, and the spirit of rebellion that permeates throughout the record lend it a sense of familiarity. However, this alone does not give it a sense of nostalgia. Lyrics about swallowing lightbulbs, gasoline uniforms, and celestial tadpoles create a world wallowing in the bizarre. On the face, the lyrics might seem nonsensical wailings, yet they are no more absurd than any other lyrics written. Why is the “long-awaited sickening kiss” a more recognizable and relatable expression of pain than swallowing lightbulbs? We would be less incredulous of the former (a lyric from American Football’s LP1), yet these distinctions are arbitrary - everything is equally absurd. The album is a perfectly palatable, disaffected outlook on the fight against suburban mediocrity. This sheer uncanniness of the album’s perspective on life synthesizes with the familiarity it’s ensconced in to create a conflict that causes the listener to experience nostalgia. They remember a time and form of teenage rebellion that they have a better handle on and a worldview they could better relate to. Art exists to evoke emotions, and the best thing it can do is challenge the spectator to the point of nostalgia. It is borne from and thrives in existential pandemonium and Sartre-esque nausea, and good art forces humans to use nostalgia as a defense mechanism and as a means of enjoyment rather than an unfiltered appreciation of the absurd. It’s why Lynchian suburbia as seen in Blue Velvet is so terrifying - it plays your nostalgia for your hometown against you as it reveals the horrors that lie underneath and within. Existentialist aesthetics work better if viewed through this tragic lens where the world is unforgivingly random since it is better able to explain why the best art is often unsettling and forces you to reconsider your views. It exemplifies the transformative intent, where the artist draws upon the chaos present in our world to bring their vision to life. Optimistic readings of existentialism posit that the world is the way it is so that humans can find beauty in it. This harkens back to the concept of comfort in familiarity and the known, which blocks a genuine ability to change. Nostalgia can be a trap, ensnaring us into stagnation by preying on our fears of change. This reaffirms the importance of embracing the chaos not only in art but in our everyday lives as well.

Giving yourself to the absurd is hard. It requires us to consciously forgo the comforts of what we know to be true or an experience we might find comfort in. However, it is important to remember that even these experiences were strange for us at one point, since the feelings and ideas they birthed were never available to us before they took place. As we grow older, the catalog of familiarity grows but the expectation or conception of the unknown or uncanny remains zero by definition, making it ever easier to sink back into patterns and ways of thinking that we already know. Fighting against this instinct is the only way to truly appreciate the tragic beauty of the wonderfully strange existence we find ourselves in.