Happy Ears: Over by Cece June
By Cece June
I wrote ‘Over’ on January 23rd, according to my Evernote app — my good friend and even better business partner. I recall being in my art history zoom class on that crisp Midwestern day and my attention was everywhere but in the art.
In the winter, the light shines in through the kitchen window when 4pm rolls around and it starts getting prematurely dark. At times, I put my dining chair between the wall and the stove, a tiny space big enough to fit it, and sit there while the sun hits my face. In that vitamin D deprived afternoon I picked up my tiny guitar and I began playing around. After a few minutes, I came up with the guitar pattern. It was rhythmic, in a way that made my head move from side to side. It was happy and sad at the same time. I muted my professor and pressed “record” on the voice memos app.
By Adelaide Wilson
Most of my songs are created by just letting the words come out, without an intended direction nor an imposed idea. I don’t mind if the lyrics are bad, or if they don’t rhyme, or if I just whistle or hum because when I press record it is just a practice of release — of letting my voice do what it wants and allowing it to take on a life of its own.
The structure of ‘Over’ was set from the beginning. I wanted to communicate the ending of something in such a way that it resembled the feeling of repeating something in your head at infinitum in hopes of comprehending why the ending happened the way it did.
‘Over’ begins with two verses in which denial and confusion are clearly apparent. To feel trapped in your own head is never easy to get out of. The first chorus is a plea to be released of those doubts. The experience of being blindsided not only impedes closure but it makes you feel like you were the final tear in a wound that you didn’t know needed mending. After the instrumental guitar solo comes the aftermath of that break. It is the impotence of feeling like you didn’t have a say in the way things ended, or why they even ended in the first place. It is trying to argue with a wall that has blocked you off without the chance to ever let you in. When it ends, then, you’re left with the impression that maybe it was all in your head. As with all that is addictive, it is also toxic. While deep down, ending is the best thing that could happen to you, you can’t help but reject the idea that it ended before you wanted it to.
By Adelaide Wilson
This song came about that afternoon, and I hardly tweaked anything afterwards. I leave most of my songs in the depths of Evernote, hoping someday I will revisit them and potentially record them. ‘Over’ was different. That same day I sent a demo to my good friend Ethan Matt, who also attends the University of Michigan, and who I had been meaning to make music with.
In his home studio we began giving ideas back and forth. Working with Ethan was a refreshing experience because I had never produced a song with someone who usually makes Hip Hop and Rap. What began with a cheeky ‘What if we played with autotune?’ became such an eye-opening way of hearing the extent of my ideas. I shouldn’t have been surprised, nonetheless, for the artists I look up to the most use vocoders constantly — Bon Iver, Hailaker and The Japanese House, among others.
“[Over is] a memory box of a cold winter semester with the warmth of talented friends who played their part in building up a song that began in my kitchen and ended in people’s ears.”
I brought in a few references of what I wanted ‘Over’ to sound like, because while I wanted it to remain raw and intimate, I liked the idea of experimenting with my sound and allowing the song to go places I didn’t initially think it could go. Some of the references were ‘Savior Complex (Copycat Killer version) by Phoebe Bridgers, ‘Alewife’ by Clairo and ‘Nude’ by Radiohead.
Part of me always wanted to release this song, but throughout the process of recording and producing, we treated it as an experiment. It had been a year since I released my first EP ‘Pieces’, and I was in the process of recording my debut LP independently from this song. I like to think of ‘Over’ as a transitory piece between those two bodies of work. A memory box of a cold winter semester with the warmth of talented friends who played their part in building up a song that began in my kitchen and ended in people’s ears.
By Adelaide Wilson
Singing ‘Over’ at my gigs these past months has been one of the greatest things – not only is it anticipated by those who got a preview, but it became what it is by having those people in mind. Whenever I perform, I always end with a fun cover of ‘Walk on the Wild Side’ by Lou Reed – I find that it snaps people out of the generally emotional mood that my music sets and it ends on a memorable note. With ‘Over’, I wanted to replicate that feeling of having the audience be a part of it, so when the bridge hits (”Parararara”), I get everyone in on it, and it is such a heartwarming thing to feel. Not only do I think it is a great way to engage with the audience, but I also think that this makes songs become more than just a listening experience – it becomes a visible and audible memory too.
Working on ‘Over’– from the moment I wrote it to the weeks leading up to the release – has been such an endearing thing. Getting to collaborate with Donald Sultan, an artist I so dearly admire, on the cover art, learning from a year as a self-managed artist and feeling less frightened and more excited for a release this time, and really just putting new music out and seeing it evolve, is worth every bit of the work and time that goes into it. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Ethan Matt, who produced it, Samuel Uribe-Botero, who mixed it, and the amazing musicians who played on it: Matt Stawinksi (guitar), Casey Cheatham (drums) and Micah Huisman (cello).
By Sophie Layton