Fight Off Your Demons

In my adolescence, I trusted the band Brand New — and specifically frontman Jesse Lacey — to help put words to the complicated feelings I couldn’t understand.

He made no secret that he was often incredibly depressed, distrusting of those around him, and often cruel to them, too. His work grappled with the consequences of being an asshole who didn’t want to be that way. As a teenager whose daily life was ravaged by emotional turmoil, I saw someone explaining my experiences for me.

But there’s something Lacey sang that I wish I had considered sooner: “I’m not your friend, I’m just a man who knows how to feel.”

I have an essay up on Defector today about Brand New, Jesse Lacey, and what my adult eyes see that my teenage eyes couldn’t. When — after nearly two weeks — the draft was finalized and ready for publication, I texted my editor, Brandy Jensen, to thank her for going through the emotional ride with me. My feelings on Brand New, and the draft copy that came with them, changed every single day.

Since the reunion announcement, I’ve been consumed by my own feelings about this man and this band whose first three albums might as well live in my bones. They disappeared for nearly eight years after Lacey was revealed to have preyed on teenage fans — girls like me; girls could have been me. Their reappearance has generated a volcano-like surfacing of emotion for me.

This is my first considerable reckoning with art versus artist. It’s caused me to reconsider the impact of the often misogynistic music I listened to when I was a teenage girl. It’s forced me to consider my true stance on forgiveness and second chances — and what it looks like to love an artist’s work without allowing the artist my absolution.

I’ve had to think about my own potential role in this reunion and the way that my re-acceptance of Brand New would give them a useful female tool for image rehabilitation. It has been oddly burdensome and more intense than I anticipated. This is probably because their long absence and previous lack of interest in a reunion meant I didn’t anticipate this emotional project at all.

Yet here I am. And here they come.

In Jesse’s own words: “Something dies when you grow older. But you do the best you can.”

Critical Thinking is a reader-supported publication. To support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.