Dissect - S9E3 - What's The Use? by Mac Miller

Episode Date: October 19, 2021

We continue our season-long analysis of Mac Miller’s Swimming with its third track, “What’s The Use?” It’s here that Mac at once asks the fundamental existential question (“what’s the use?”) and dismisses the need to ask questions at all (“what’s the use?”). This season includes discussion of substance misuse and addiction. For resources on these topics, visit spotify.com/resources. Shop Season 9 merchandise here. Follow Dissect on Tiktok, Instagram, and Twitter. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

We can spend a lifetime pondering the depths of our existence, bogged down by the crippling weight of the human condition, repeatedly asking, what's the use? What's the point to all of this? But we could also just get on with our lives. We can move. From Spotify, I'm Cole Kushna, and this is Dissect, long-form musical analysis broken into short digestible episodes. Today we continue our serialized examination of MacMiller swimming with what's the use. The track that shows us that sometimes the best way out of a funk is with a little funk. Of all the songs on Swimming,

what's the use features the most eclectic assembly of musicians, including producers Pomo, Dame Funk, and Mac himself, a bass line of vocals by Thundercat, and additional vocals by Sid from the internet and hip-hop legend Snoop Dogg. According to Mac, the song began with a few chords on keyboard and a drumbeat produced by Pomo. Pomo is the fucking man.

He came over, you're just jamming, like I'm trying out some things on the keys. He's doing drums. He makes my chords better, whatever, however it happened. And then we actually put it to the side, and then Thundercat came over that night. And I was like, wait, could you try a bass line? I swear to God that that was the first thing he played, like not even checking the notes, but he literally picked up the bass.

And that was just the first thing he naturally did. Impeccable in its fluid syncopation, Thundercat's baseline is almost symphonic in its wide-ranging melodic contours. Notice how it begins with a few simple low notes, then unfolds with more complexity as it reaches higher and higher. The bass line is so catchy and complete on its own that when Mack enters with the hook, his vocals are going to essentially just mirror the bass. And with the addition of Thundercat's baseline, it seems Mac and his team decided to lean fully into the funk, enlisting producer Dame Funk to lay down some synth lines. Dame Funk is a legendary G-Funk producer, a hip-hop subgenre that emerged in the 1990s.

It's clear that what's to use is at least in part, an homage to this sound. A hallmark of G-Funk is prominent, bouncing bass lines like we hear in Snoop Dogg's 1993 hit, Who Am I? What's My Name? Also common in G-Funk is the use of Sawway synthesizers with heavy vibrato and glasando, which we can hear in Snoop and Dr. Dre's 1992 hit, nothing but a G-thing. It's like this and like that and like this and- like this and-a- it's like that and The West Coast G-funk or gangster funk sound grew out of a sound called P-Funk, an abbreviation for Parliament Funkadelic, a revolutionary and highly influential music

collective headed by George Clinton. G-funk beats were often made from samples or interpolations of P-Funk songs. On what's the use, Mack even nods to Parliament directly with his imitation of the group's unmistakable bass singer Ray Davis. Here's Mack saying, Turn It Up before the second verse. And now here's Parliament's Ray Davis. Max imitation of Ray Davis is more evidence of What's the Use being a musical homage to G and P-Funk, as is his inclusion of Snoop Dog and Dame Funk on the track, two artists who actually

did a collaboration album together called Seven Days of Funk. But what makes What's the use truly unique is Max lyrics, which are quite serious when compared to the track's upbeat groove. When discussing the juxtaposition between the song's music and lyrics, Mack responded with a joke, sort of. Yeah, dude, it's crazy, it just happens. I guess, you know, I'm in a funky time in life, you know what I mean? It feels like Mack was amused with his use of the word funky here, as it cleverly describes both the music, a funky groove, and the lyrics,

which describe being in a funk. With this contrast in mind, let's dive into the song's hook. Mac begins the chorus singing, You can love it, you can leave it. The similar word choice between love or leave seems to imply a thin line between the paths. This opening line continues the motif of dichotomy that runs throughout swimming.

We had swimming versus drowning and stress versus relief on comeback to earth, and pride versus humility and honesty versus lies on hurt feelings. While in the current track, we don't yet know what it is that we can love or leave, Mack's focus turns to perception and outside voices, as he continues, they say you're nothing without it. Whatever it is, it's important, as our entire identity is

threatened by not having it. The mystery continues as Mac sings, what if I don't need it? There's something about it that just freaks me out. This first question tests the waters. Does Mac rely too much on this vague it? Is it something he absolutely needs? He's growing weary of it, noting that there's something about it that's troubling, though he can't quite put his finger on it yet. As the hook continues, Mac switches cadences to a choppier, more rhythmic delivery, accenting the upbeat, and we get a few more clues about what this cryptic it could be. Mac wraps, I just want another minute with it. Fuck a little. What's the use? Despite being freaked out in the previous line, Mack still wants more of the vague it,

echoing the line from hurt feelings, always said I want it all, but it's not enough. It speaks to an inherent, insatiable desire and dissatisfaction. When you have it all and it's enough, then what's the use? This of course is the title of the song, and this question is massive and its vague implications. The natural relationship between use and tools offers open interpretations of the it in question to any number of things, the internet, social media, love, music, or drugs. What's the use of these tools? Then given the nature of tools as a significant divide between human beings and most other animals, the question expands in scope to the existential why. What do we do with our human condition, our human ability? This existential quality permeates

the hook. Replace it with life and Mac is pondering the reason why we're here. What's the use of living? But the specific word use also keys us in on a likely primary layer that Mac is questioning his addiction, his use of drugs or alcohol. He can love or leave them and doing either freaks him out for different reasons. Loving them too much is dangerous while leaving them altogether is daunting, because what if he's nothing without them? What if he needs them for creativity, for his happiness, for a respite from the stresses of life? In light of addiction, wanting another minute with it feels like internal bargaining, a plea to keep using, even while knowing the potentially dangerous consequences. And while the question what's the use appears grand in its

connection to both existentialism and addiction, the phrase also functions as an idiom, a figure of speech. What's the use is often a negative rhetorical question, a way to imply that it not be useful to do something, that it's pointless. Thus, Mac is asking the massive existential question while simultaneously dismissing the very need to ask questions at all. It's this tension that is the primary thematic foundation of the track. We'll come to see this reflected in the conceptual structure of each verse. In verse 1, he'll posit that we have no answers to these questions, so what's the use? In verse 2, he'll imply not bothering to even ask the questions, because what's the use? As if doubling down on the multiple implications,

at the hook, Matt continues singing, Never Superficial, you're going to know it when it hit you, get a little sentimental when I'm off the juice. The never superficial reminds us to look deeper into all the possible interpretations, especially as the funky groove of the song might have us overlook Mack's existential lyrics. And in tune with the blurred lines of interpretation, Mac's parting line, get a little sentimental when I'm off the juice, seems to offer two paths.

Matt could be saying he's gone off the juice, as in he's indulged in alcohol to the point of an altered perspective. putting him in his feelings. Or Matt could be off the juice as in sober, off the use of alcohol, making him more in touch with his organic emotions. Either way, we're in motion, off the hook and into the first verse. Okay, we call it in the breeze, but the breeze ain't flowing like me. Motherfucker, hold up.

You don't need a haul up. Yeah. And I can show you how I've seen what it is, what it truly might be, nothing that you know of. You don't need to hold up. Mac begins with a bit of braggadocio, rapping, Okay, we're colder than the breeze, but the breeze ain't flowing like me.

Hold up. You don't need to hold up. It's a set of clever, lighthearted bars as he instructs us to hold up and then immediately jokes that we actually don't need to. Mac is fully in control and having fun. With his reference to the flow of the breeze, Mac begins priming us in a sense of movement

and fluidity that will dominate the track. He continues, and I can show you how I seem, what it is, what it truly might be, nothing that you know of. you don't need to hold up. Talking to his audience directly, Mac offers a description of what he could do on this track, show us who he is,

offering his art as a window into his life. But the use of intentionally vague descriptors gets out the idea that regardless of whatever he attempts to show or express to us, we're all going to see something different anyway. Maybe what we get from Mac's music is reality, or maybe it's the fantasy afforded by a celebrity, or maybe it's something that we'll never know.

It's impossible to pin down, something that flows just like the breeze. When explaining a similar lyric, I'm just an idea I'm nothing concrete from his 2013 song SDS, Max said, quote, I just don't believe I'm an actual person. I'm actually just an idea to everybody.

We don't actually exist as people to anybody. We exist through the ideas we give to the world, unquote. This line of thinking seems to be the reason he again ends the line. You don't need to hold up. You don't have to get bogged down by the infinite possibilities of everyone and everything. You can just keep it moving.

I'm so A-Bove and B-on. You take drugs and make it up way up where we're on. Space Shuttle Elon. Time we don't waste much, fuck when we wake up and I have her sang just like Celine Dion. Catch me if you can, but you never catch me. Damn. Hold on it, yes, I am.

All the way in with no exit plan already left and the jet don't land. Yeah, the time is too... Matt cleverly claims elevated status rapping, I'm so A-Bove and B-on. You take drugs to make it way up where we on, space shuttle, Elon. Accentuating the alphabet with above and beyond, Mack says drugs are necessary for others to make it as high as he is.

Again, there's two interpretations here. He could be claiming himself naturally fly and successful, and others would have to use substances to reach his heights. Or Mac can be intoxicated himself, claiming others need to catch up to his high. Mack then compares his success and heights to the space flights of Elon Musk and his space X company. He then continues claiming, Time we don't waste much, fuck when we wake up,

then have her sing just like Celine Dion. In addition to his high, Mack paints a scene of life without idle time, where the pleasures of sex and music are enjoyed from the start of the day. The Celine Dion reference seems like a direct nod to his ex Ariana Grande, who at that point famously performed impressions of Celine Dion on SNL and other talk shows. I know you do impersonations. I do some. I've heard you do Celine Dion.

We can do one together. Certain is the song. It might seem odd that Mack would implicate this part of his real life, but remember he just called into question our ability to know if things in his music are true. With the nod to Dion and Grande, Mac is almost teasing us with his life, playing around with our conceptions of what we know of him, what we know to be true, and what we think we know about the music we're listening to. This seems to be why he follows with the lines, Catch Me If You Can, but you'll never catch me, damn. Here Mac begins an extended reference to the 2002 film Catch Me If You Can, which stars Leonardo

DeCaprio and a story based on the real life of Frank Abingnail Jr., a conman who impersonated a pilot, physician, and attorney, allowing him to make money and love a lavish fantasy of a life. Mack's connection to this idea makes a lot of sense, as he himself adopted quite a few alternate monocers for different creative outputs. Whether producing under the alias Larry Lovesstein, rapping as alter ego-delusional Thomas, or embodying Larry Fisherman, Mac tried on different identities and attempt to get a handle on his own. But I mean, I think, I think that that there's a time and a place for every different kind of identity and music. You know, I think that there's, that, that, uh, it's okay for artists to, to jump around

and, and not always be so consistent with the identity they carry, um, in their music, because humans are way more complex than that. And it's like, and so, like, for me, it's like, uh, like, I want to make sure I cover all the, all the, all the, all the different identities that come with being a human. And what's the use, the line you'll never catch me fits in with the breezy concept of identity, as in you'll never wrangle or pin down who Mac is. Public perception and media scrutiny is something Mac has dealt with throughout his career, especially around the time of swimming's release,

and over time he was becoming at peace with it all. Quote, you know what's funny? I feel like the public perception of me varies on who you ask, but I think there's a bit of freedom in knowing that people are going to think all types of shit, no matter what. It actually makes me less stressed about how my actions are perceived. it's out of my control. I mean, to a degree, I could control it. I could live this squeaky clean life and everything.

I could try to control the media. But I've been finding a freedom and just living and letting people say whatever the fuck they want, unquote. Matt continues the verse sticking with the pilot symbolism from Catch Me If You Can, falling in line with the theme of flight and planes throughout the album. He wraps all the way in with no exit plan, already left, and the jet don't land. Beyond foreshadowing the album's 11th track Jet Fuel, there's an implication of danger here. As Mac continues to convey, there's a constant oscillation or simultaneity between highs and lows that what goes up must come down. And if the jet doesn't land, the insinuation

might be that it's bound to crash, which calls to mind the album's cover image where the plane seat is also a coffin. Cleverly, after the reference to being in the proverbial jet, Mac speeds up the pace of his flow as the verse continues. I'm talking fly I got a pilot with him Can I mind my business? Why you tripping? Give you something that your eyes go with us Ooh, I'm too close

I don't understand Why you're doing the most Aware of the inevitable end Matt kicks it up a notch And invites us on the ride He raps The time is ticking Come take a ride, get inside

This is highly different I'm talking fly, got a pilot with him There's some fun wordplay with the highly different Referring to the altitude of flight drugs or success while the ticking of time is a reminder of mortality on the flight's inevitable end, that the jet will eventually run out of fuel.

This metaphoric bond between flight and existentialism is something Mac has mounted before, like with the extended metaphor of birds throughout the 2013 album, watching movies with the sound off. Here on the track Avion, Mac sings, there's a bird in the sky, look at him fly,

why, why. It's an existential wonder, and the extended metaphor of the album connects Mac to, this bird, wondering why he stays high, whether that be drugs, fame, or wealth. As Mac wraps immediately after this question, let the money pile all be running wild. Life's a motherfucking joke so we fuck around. It's a decision to enjoy what we can, to pursue pleasure in the shadow of life's grand joke on us. On what's the use, having just invited us on the ride, Mac turns on

us a bit, rapping, can I mind my business? Why you trippin? Aside from the business class wordplay, it seems these lines might be directed towards those who disapprove or are tripping over Mack's trips, his drug use. Mack then pledges to give us something that our eyes can witness, which is generally the purpose of going on a trip, to see something with our own eyes. Mac then continues rapping, Oh, you're too close, I don't understand why you're doing the most. This continues to push and pull heard throughout the verse. He tells us to hold up, then says don't hold up.

He asks us to take a ride and come inside, then asks why we're tripping and says we're too close. This conflict is underscored with the question of what's the use. Is it worthwhile to try and figure out who Mack really is? Is that even possible? And does he want us to know? It gets out the complicated relationship between artist and audience. An artist like Mac expresses themselves so transparently in his music that we feel like we know him, but it's not a complete picture.

As Mac tweeted back in 2012, quote, I am not even a real person to most of you. I am nothing but a name that is attached to something that you love. Most of you will never meet me, unquote. There's a loneliness to this statement, a no-one-will-ever-know-me-type sadness, but it even extends into the idea that there's not a concrete self that even exists.

How could we possibly figure out who we are when there are infinite versions, and we only exist in relation to each other? I mean, what's the use? As Mack turns again to wanting another minute with the juice, He enlist Snoop Dog for background vocals, further cementing the song's G-Funk flavoring while nodding to Snoop's early hit, Gin & Juice. Mack actually got to perform Gin and Juice with Snoop on his birthday at the Big Day Out music

festival in 2014. Mac told Pitchfork, quote, So I was hanging out on stage and all of a sudden Snoop is like, it's the homie Mac Miller's birthday, and he dedicated gin and juice to me, and I came on stage killing it, unquote. Snoop's vocalization on what's the use adds a kind of carefree appeal and simply enjoying the juice, enjoying the ride. And as we pointed out earlier, at the end of this second chorus, Mack imitates the low voice of Parliament's Ray Davis to say, turn it up, which is exactly what

Mack does in the second verse. That's right after the break. Welcome back to dissect. Before the break, we heard a repetition of the hook, where Mac is joined by none other than Snoop Dogg. As what's the use continues, Mac turns it up and unfurls a verse full of boasts. So far, but far, we could parlay all day, crib long grains with the yard. I know I should probably pray more, but you gotta love me. Because I say the day spent money. When I had nothing, shit, it wasn't so funny. Made a promise to the hummies, nobody go hungry.

Look how far we can. Mack begins the second verse trying to make a concrete decision about an identity to perform for us. He raps, well, I'm going to give you what you came for. Shit, I worked too hard to have a clue who you are. It appears what we came for was a flex. As Mack falls into the identity of a stereotypical rapper, one we live vicariously through. Mac is simply too famous

and has a mass too big of an audience to know any one person individually. We can envision the setting of a concert or festival performance of the individual Mac Miller standing in front of a sea of faces and we can see that Matt could not possibly know everyone and must instead flexes status above the crowd.

And that just makes me happy because I think like people like want to see me flex a little bit. Yeah. You know, like that's like I think it's just kind of like I do like we. get to your thoughtful human being now like come out and shit on everyone

and see like the character and now just wrap about it. Like just just you know you're good. Yeah. You don't have to worry about like what the world means all the time. You know, sometimes we just want to turn up. Interestingly, Mac here says turn up as a description of his flexing mindset

which is exactly what he says before flexing on this verse. He also notes a dichotomy between talking shit and worrying about what the world means. Ever changing, ever growing. Max found a way to do both. You know, you see yourself with moments of like, damn, I was full of self-doubt there. And then, damn, I was really feeling myself right there.

And there's a place for all of that, you know, and you don't have to hide any part of yourself. And I think in music, a lot of times people get tied up in the wrestling aspect of it. You know, like the theme music and walking in and this is my character and I'm this guy. And it's like, nah, man. There's no way you're that every day of your life.

That's a good comparison. There's no way. Mac continues a verse embarking on this stunting treatise, rapping, said the bar so far above par, we can parlay all day, crib long range with the yard. The central metaphor here is golfing, with par being the term for the number of strokes expected to complete a hole, and crib long range with the yard being a flex that his house is big enough for a driving range.

Given Mack's enjoyment of golf as a hobby, these references fall in line with Mac playing up the luxurious aspect, of his life. By setting the bar above par, he's making the game easier for himself, as he can take more strokes to get the ball in the hole. This in turn allows him to parlay all day, since to parlay is to turn an initial amount of gambling winnings into more by continuing to gamble, which is easy now that Mack rose par. Above par also means above average, so outside of golf, Mac is again boasting about his elevated status. Then, as if recognizing his blessings, Mac admits, I know I should probably pray more, but you've got to love me, because I saved

the day, spend money. Here, Max Bose seemed to have gotten to the level of the most high, as he intentionally evokes classic tropes of Jesus, namely his status as loving Savior. This continues into the next lines, when I had nothing, shit it wasn't so funny, made a promise to the homies nobody go hungry. Here Max seems to be evoking the well-known biblical passage John 635 that reads, quote, Jesus said to them, I am the bread of life, whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst. On one level, string of religious theme lines seems to be a continuation of his boasts, that he's reached a kind of savior status who takes care of those around him from day one. On the other hand, given his

admission of failing to pray and spending money perhaps recklessly, Mack may be expressing the weight of responsibility that comes with his elevated status, that perhaps he should actually be a humble, charitable leader more like Jesus. Either way, Matt keeps it moving as he continues the verse. That's turning like a hurricane, swerving till the sun get about in my shade. I don't get the picture cut him out of that front. Shit, I'm up dirty-down miles plus change. It's been a while, but I'm down till I'm out, and it is what it is till it ain't. Still thinking about the past, Mac raps, look how far we came.

Still, they throwing dirt on my name, but it never worry my brain. Throwing dirt on one's name might continue the Jesus references of the previous lines, as Jesus faced continual slander against him, leading to his death. But the line is also personal, as Matt claims. he doesn't let criticism affect him. Crucially, the dirt is thrown on Mack's name, extending the song's emphasis on identity, and the thrown dirt evokes both reputational damage

and a literal burial, an attempt to end Mack's ability to be himself. Mack then wraps, heads turning like a hurricane swerving. Either he's referring to other people's heads turning to watches every action, dizzyed by his continued movement, or it's Mac's head that's turning,

as his mind is thrown into chaos by the words of others. He's been doing nothing but stunting on this verse, so our inclination is the former. Mack then extends the weather language saying, Tell the sun get up out of my shade. Continuing the elevation and flight theme of the track, Mac is apparently shining so bright that he doesn't need the sun. Shade here also ties into throwing dirt or shade on his name,

so Mac is once again flexing that he's too hot to be cooled down by the words of others. Mack then tosses aside those who might not understand him, rapping. If they don't get the picture, cut them out of that frame. While at first, this is a brag about his ability to toss haters aside, It also runs hypocritical to the central question of the track. That is, can we ever get the picture? We don't know who Mack is, we don't know what the use of anything is for sure, so how can we ever hope to really, truly get the picture?

This is the fallibility which underscores Mack's second verse. Stunting is fun, but on its own, it isn't balanced. Finally, Mac concludes the verse, I'm up 30,000 miles plus change. It's been a while, but I'm down till I'm out, and it is what it is till it ain't. The both seats piled up have him flying high, from takeoff in the first verse until now. This line seems to refer to Max elevated reputation in the music industry,

which was approaching a decade when he released swimming. He says he's down till he's out, which seems to mean he's dedicated to continuing at a high level as long as he can, until the ride is inevitably over. The use of the word down specifically here seems calculated, continuing the motif of simultaneous highs and lows. While he's flown high through this verse for us, he's also going to be down or sad until he's out too.

All of this comes with a reminder of temporality. Mack has promised to fly for us until he's gone, because it is what it is until it ain't. Even as he's flown high, Mack's lyrics have conveyed an understanding that he must come down eventually. But this doesn't mean we can't have fun. Rather, we have to soar when we can. We have to experience flight fully, which includes both an appreciation of the moment in the moment and an understanding of its eventual end. In other words, when we get a chance to fly, we need to be able to look down and still enjoy the flight. As we covered on our last episode, It Is What It Is Till It Ain't was the perspective that

Mac Miller and Thundercat shared as a guiding principle. Thundercat would end up naming his album released after Mack's passing, It Is What It Is, and he told NPR, quote, I always bring this up, but me and Mac Miller used to have this saying, we had it on a piece of paper on the studio wall. It said, sit down and let it happen. We always knew it was terrible advice, but the joke was that there's not a lot you can do about it. We want for things to be more than they are, but a lot of the time, it just is what it is. You wind up coming to that, and it's almost comforting, it is what it is, it's what it's supposed to be, unquote. Here on what's the use, Mac has brewed this understanding into the intoxicating bubbles of the funky,

danceable groove and soaring lyricism. Sure, we must come down sometime, but if the flight makes us happy, then we owe it to ourselves to be present and revel in the times of joy. Here on the song's bridge, the drums cut out, and we get a temporary modulation to a new key, from C-sharp to C-natural, transporting us into what feels like the elevated altitude Mack has been describing himself living in on the track. Thundercat takes over the vocals, singing, up above the clouds, I just want to fly. Fittingly, he sings this in a high falsetto voice, becoming one with the atmosphere of airy, drifting scents. This is a musical portrait of being present in the moment of flight,

fully indulging in the high. And it's this high that carries into the final repetition of the hook, which ends with Snoop Dog highlighting the duality of substances of the high. You can love it. It just freaks me out. The stuff Snoop sent me was so amazing.

And he talks like a bunch of shit at the end that I didn't end up keeping, but like I have to listen to. It's just beautiful, just poetic shit talking. And so now I have that. And also like, dude, he just, he floats. Here we get a sense of Max reason to include Snoop beyond his prominence in G-Funk. It's Snoop's floating, poetic shit-talking,

which as we now know fits perfectly into the song's theme. And this is how the song ends, freaked out and loving it all at once. Conclusions. What's the use is both a central question to our understanding of purpose, as well as a dismissal of our questions themselves? Throughout the track, Mack explores the idea of flight, from the high of expressing extreme confidence, the high of drugs, the high of creating music, and the literal height of aerial flying. Interestingly, given the already established motif of water on the album, we recognize the parallel between flying and swimming, that they're each in their own way the experience of floating, one high in the sky, the other below the surface underwater.

This dual symbolism falls in line with Mack's attempts to capture our highs and lows simultaneously, conveying the idea that peace, balance, and presence is possible in each, if we just learn to adjust our perspective. Tragically, a music video for What's the Use was the next thing on Mac Miller's schedule at the time of his passing. According to Rolling Stone, quote, Thundercat and Miller had big plans for the rest of the year. He and Miller were set to hit the road this fall on a joint tour behind the rapper's new album swimming, and more urgently, they had plans to shoot a bold music video in mid-September for the collaborative track,

What's the Use? A wide-ranging cast of celebrities and friends of Miller's were set to make cameos dancing along to the song. He just wanted people to know how hard he'd been working, Thundercat says. Up until the last words we spoke to each other, it was nothing short. of pure excitement." So what are we to do with this harsh reality? While Mac crafted this beautiful ode to enjoying the highs of our lives, we know all too well the dangers involved. We know how it ended for Mac.

The thing is, Mac knew it would end too. That much is clear on what's to use. But he didn't let that keep him down. Rather, he soars, appreciating the moment in the moment, knowing that it is what it is until it ain't. So while we've spent time thinking about this song, pondering each line, dissecting the each moment, we have to ask now, what's the use? Maybe the most important takeaway from this track is to simply relish the feel-good serotonin boost

of the four minutes and 49 seconds we've been gifted. That is to say, let's allow ourselves to enjoy happiness when it comes to us. Cokes every potential moment from it, unbothered by our questions, a respite far away from our existential concerns. Fight our funks with funk and move. This episode of Dissect was written by Camden Ostrander and me. If you enjoyed today's episode, please tell a friend about the new season or share on social media and tag at Dysect Podcast. It really helps.

Theme music by Bureaucratic. Instrumental Recreations by Andrew Atwood. Audio editing by Eric Bass and me. Limited merch for this season is available at Dicectpodcast.com, which is linked in the show notes. All right, thanks for everyone. Talk to you next week.