The Middle of Nowhere #8: 2022 Recap
The year from hell is finally over. I’ve been lagging behind in recapping everything because I wanted to make sure I had all my energy for the Passion of the Weiss blurbs (read both here). In spite of all the bad, I will cover anything from this year I loved or found noteworthy, from music I didn’t see enough coverage for to wrestling, film, memes and everything in between. I’ll start with my favorite album of the year.
ojeras de damita- withered roses for eternal lovers: It is terrifying how fleeting life and memory is. Without the omnipresence of those in your life, they can disappear before you know it. Similarly, the memories you hold with them can slowly dissipate without documentation. We take advantage of the mundane, that the time we spend on this earth is expected and those around us will be there until we aren’t. Perhaps it’s for the best we exist without the anticipation of agony. But in the loss I’ve experienced, I live with a lot of regret; that I didn’t fully realize how special certain moments were and capture them. It has only been the art in my life that help chronicle my experiences. I’m grateful that I have an album where the feeling of loss and love through memory can be recaptured.
withered roses for eternal lovers is a dusty, magical Bandcamp record from ojeras de damita residing in Lima, Peru (shoutout @billdifferen). Instinctively, it recalls oldies from the early to mid 20th century, captured in halls of wallpaper and chain smoke, accented by chandeliers and old cutlery. The real kicker is that none of it is sampled. In the bio for the album, they say, “On this new album, I decided to put samples aside and compose my own ballroom.” Tags of memory, haunting, and dementia align the bottom of the page. All of these descriptors ring true; the mix is grainy and cloudy, horns and piano chords echoing in the rain and fog. Every song feels somber in the way you longingly look at faded pictures. In some sense, it’s just nostalgia but it’s much deeper. Not only do we long for the past, we long for days where the pressures of life weren’t so excruciating and the unflinching threat of time felt distant. withered roses for eternal lovers is a masterful record, where every song blankets you in the loving embrace of memory. Memory is all we truly have.
Jun Kasai/El Desperado Post Match Promo: It’s very hard to connect any emotional resonance to wrestling. But what Jun Kasai and El Desperado did after their brutal death-match was the most impactful promo I’ve heard in years. To call it life-affirming would be an understatement.
Sami Zayn: Wrestling is the easiest form of media to grow stale. Promotions don’t hold off-seasons like other sports or take breaks to recharge like a typical TV show. Additionally, they hold some of the least imaginative writing in any medium. Characters lack dimension or even the simplest motive in some cases. The Bloodline in WWE could have become tedious and redundant very easily. They’ve avoided that fate, partly because Roman Reigns is the most magnetic, dominant star wrestling has had in years. But most of the Bloodline’s greatness can be traced back to its biggest oddity Sami Zayn.
Sami’s quest for external acceptance is emotionally gripping and dramatically uneasy. He came to the Bloodline a desperate man with no direction, floundering in mid cards with no allies and embarrassed by the Jackass crew at WrestleMania (top 3 matches of the year). The Bloodline was (and, depending on how you read the storyline, still is by some in the group) skeptical. Yet it’s his inherent likability and willingness to sacrifice himself and his love for others that brought him in the embrace of The Bloodline. All he desired was someone’s earnest belief in him and The Bloodline (seemingly) gave it to him.
Weekly wrestling TV feels more essential than it ever has because of Sami. The intensity behind each Bloodline promo, there is Sami’s puppy eyes, eager to prove his belonging every week. It’s those puppy eyes that makes the inevitable turn that much more excruciating. It’s not certain that they’ll land Sami’s arc correctly; wrestling is notorious for its timid writing. But wrestling in 2022 was at its best when Sami was at its center.
This Picture of Veeze and Johnny Knoxville:
Top Gun: Maverick: I read a lot of uppity A24 types on the internet complain about Top Gun: Maverick on year end lists. I’ve never understood people so bold in their desire to show how lame they are. Tom Cruise’s desire to revive the dying theater experience from vegetative super hero exclusivity to a varied landscape is admirable. I went long on Top Gun: Maverick on Letterboxd, one of the rare physical films with a passionate spirit for the art and an emotional edge for those devoted to the first film. Chopping it up to military propaganda is lazy and reductive but it also doesn’t really matter? The amount of CIA operative ass filmmakers and we draw the line at something with genuine fire and devotion to the theater experience. Do not let the nerds fool you, this is one of the year’s best.
Carly Cosgrove- See You in Chemistry: Shoutout to one of my Twitter friends for putting me on here. I went on a massive emo and punk kick in ’22 and this is one of the best examples of nonsensical ranting, killer drums, sweet guitar runs, and self loathing that makes the genre so addictive.
The People You’re Paying to Be in Shorts: The folks at Secret Base are making some of the best documentaries today, unafraid to break traditional structure, thoughtful to magnify multiple themes and perspectives in sculpting around a greater subject. Their greatest video revolves around the worst basketball team ever, the 2011–2012 Bobcats. It’s a case study on failure and the depths it takes people. For Michael Jordan, every obstacle he ever met was overcame with overwhelming success. 6-time NBA champion, took over baseball when basketball wasn’t an option, starred alongside Bugs Bunny in Space Jam. With enough hard work, anything could be won… or maybe not. One of a few narrators, Jon Bois, treks this ego death as if he was a close friend trying to console MJ past such a train-wreck. For everyone else, the ineptitude of the Bobcats makes them ponder the meaning behind their failure, what it means to Charlotte or, rather, if it means anything when so many other sports capture the city’s hearts. For the players, they process the futility of the season and the shrinking pride of losing more than any other team. With the failure of the Bobcats, it was possible drive and passion simply wasn’t enough.
Wardlow/Eddie Kingston: AEW is the wrestling promotion that captured my imagination the most in 2022. Despite the lack of drama held by Young Bucks matches and owner Tony Khan’s interest in the stalest mid 2010s ROH nonsense, AEW holds a distinct rawness to them that rejects sterile cleanliness. It’s Wardlow’s world-beating aura akin to Batista and Goldberg or Eddie Kingston’s reckless but candid spirit that dictated so much of the best AEW storylines. It’s a shame that Tony Khan is relentless in his neutering of momentum. I still feel there should’ve been an audible for Wardlow to join the CM Punk/Hangman Page (arguably another failure to TK’s favoring for blander alternatives) match after devouring MJF. Eddie Kingston’s arc with Chris Jericho never saw a proper close, morphing into a never ending Jericho Appreciation Society/Blackpool Combat Club feud. But even with systemic and storytelling failure, Wardlow and Kingston never ceased to amaze.
Dazegxd- vKiss: I spent countless hours dancing like an idiot to this one. vKiss is so colorful, purples and pinks splattering on deafening drums and celestial chords.
Porridge Radio- Back to the Radio: The soundtrack to a lot of my darkest moments of the year. Real fall to your knees, shirt-ripping agony.
Luh Tyler: One of rap’s great shit-talkers, a young gremlin that reminds me of so many of the kids idolizing Kodak Black and Kevin Gates rapping in my high school days. The tropical splash of “A Day in the Noya” always takes me back to some of my stomping grounds.
Quadry- It Was Once My World: Quadry’s greatest strength is establishing setting. His breakout album Malik Ruff is swampy and bright, songs like “1:04pm” sitting riverside, basking in the sun or “Bluegrass” playing like car rides with nothing but trees outside the window. They Think We Ghetto expands the setting, transporting us to different characters and energies. “I Grew Up” and “Once Upon a Time in the Parking Lot” burst with fire, like stepping on someone’s shoes can escalate the fun into startlingly intense. His EP It Was Once My World freezes the drama into something grayer and complex.
A lazy listener could flippantly label the EP as ‘lo-fi.’ Quadry has always been good at subverting those sorts of expectations. His thick Louisiana accent is arguably his sharpest tool; his attentive writing is highlighted by a location familiar to those in the know and imaginative for the uninitiated. Take “Blackbird,” met with skeletal drums and wandering chords recalls trees shed of its leaves and overcast skies. But rather than fall into a ‘boom bap’ category with concrete jungles and active streets, Quadry’s writing spotlights small gas stations, gold grills, 20 inch rims, and local Southern neighborhoods. It Was Once My World further emphasizes what makes Quadry a special rapper, favoring distinctions over mere aesthetic.
Sasha Banks at the Royal Rumble: A blessing.
Jim Legxacy: Jim Legxacy’s music blooms with so much color and imagination. The textures on “Dj” are bumpy and rugged, intercepted by the sunny guitar loop and euphoric vocals. It’s a golden hour record on turbulent backroads. “Candy Reign” resists being too on the nose with its overt Soul For Real sample by scorching it in tropical heat and contrasting its glistening soul flourishes with a choppy drum loop. Jim Legxacy is a fascinating artist who alters the idea of any genre by unpredictable fusions.
NoCap: Quietly one of the best rappers in the world, NoCap had some of the rawest music of the year. His album Mr. Crawford was notably a little sanitized but the rapping remained gutting and distinct. He approaches songs with a battle rap instinct, stitching clever bars with sharp observations and devastating details in compact space. Take “Shackles to Diamonds,” a perseverant Al-Geno beat where NoCap recounts bad days (“Your baby bang red like Santa Claus ’cause he aint used to gettin’ up for Christmas) and props them up with reason to be grateful for his newfound success (Told Rylo ‘get that paper, we’ll drop a mixtape later and go pack out arenas,’ the shit we used to dream of.”) The most devastating NoCap song is “Heaven for Thugs (Letter to Wap),” a brutal lamentation grieving over the loss of his friend. The writing is unrestrained, pain ravaging his brain and all he can do is recall memories (“Remember them long nights on that block, I can still hear you.”) His willingness to bare his soul wholeheartedly is what makes him such a compelling and relatable artist.
Gunna- Pussy Power (OG): The best Gunna song that will never live its best life. The shoddy mix they put out in the DRIP SEASON 4EVER deluxe is shockingly sterile, exchanging sex appeal in its original sample for stock moans. But the snippet and leak? *Chef’s kiss*
I’m The Biggest Bird: It’s definitely a joke but the melodies here are legitimately insane. It’s sweet and sticky with muddy, sludgy vocals trudging through a raw ass mix. Easily one of the catchiest songs of the year.
Brandon Banks- Natural Progressions: So much art depicting LA gets caught up in tired cliche. Brandon Banks’ Natural Progressions avoids this fate with keen detail and awareness of his setting. The record sounds just like Inglewood; gated doors, dried, brownish grass, palm trees endlessly swaying in the breeze, partially blocking out the blinding sun. It is not people’s usual depiction of Los Angeles, idyllic to some, plastic to others. Rather, Banks ponders the decaying inner city, the struggle in himself and those around him, and how the city shines regardless. “Tryin’” is the best example of this, a shrug at the hardships because they’re inevitable. “Charge it to the game, it’s another day,” Banks sighs, “Prayed to the sun as I’m on my way. Under palm trees everything’s okay, lost a couple years but I found my path.” Idealizing Los Angeles misses its true beauty; once you’re past the noise and artifice, the city shines the brightest and allows true growth. Natural Progressions is essential LA art.
Tony Statovci Papa Johns Meme: One of the greatest sources of motivation was a goddamn Papa Johns 50 Cent P.I.M.P. spoof. It’s one of my leading inspirations for 2023, a year I’m declaring for triumph. I need these wins. More greatness on publications and more growth for The Middle of Nowhere. Love all of you who read this far and continue to read.
