Your favorite underground artist may seem like a superstar to you, but fame is truly in the eye of the beholder. Nothing proved that more to me than my chance encounter with Los Angeles’s YAY BLYNN at Boston’s Logan International Airport. His unexpected appearance carrying a cased guitar into a terminal filled while cookie-cutter businessmen garnered a series of interesting looks, but I may have been the only one starstruck at his arrival. He sat down with his friends and proceeded to watch the airport television from afar, seemingly passing disgruntled whispers between his companions about the Brett Kavanaugh hearing shown on CNN.
While he stayed occupied with his friends, I did some quick research and noticed that he was not on tour. When boarding finally started and he got up to stand by the gate, I caught him in a moment of separation, tapped him on the shoulder, and questioned “Excuse me…you’re YAY BLYNN…?” He looked back at me with a confused smirk and said “uhh, yeah…my names actually Jay, what’s yours?” In my fanboy-esque ramble about being a huge local admirer, I found out the friends he was traveling with were actually his bandmates within the much more esteemed group (in terms of streaming numbers/sales) Lucius. Although I didn’t recognize his bandmates without their trademark blonde bob haircuts, I was still caught off guard with how surprised Jay Blynn was that I only recognized him. I may have added a bright spot to his afternoon, but the encounter opened my eyes to the fact that most artists I praise don’t live and act like illustrious celebrities as many would imagine.
In this live COLORS show for his currently unreleased single “Sweet Child”, Blynn expresses his appreciation for a counterpart as if to say they control the extraterrestrial wonders of the universe through their most basic characteristics. Although the concept sounds enchanting, dark guitar oscillations threaten the integrity of his cosmic confessions right from the start. Verbal jeopardy strikes when Blynn hesitantly acknowledges the relationship’s self-inflicted obliteration, as he recites the refrain, “I was looking for something in the trees, so I burned ’em all down. Now I’m walking on black ground.” Throughout the remaining lyrical journey, Blynn blames himself for the destruction of his relationship with his “Sweet Child”. In a sudden change of pace towards the end of the song however, Blynn lashes out in an extraneously loathsome bellow, saying “Don’t let me tell you what you should be dreaming of. Just dance if you want to dance, and love if you want to love.” The subsequent gritty guitar picking virtually rounds out the full circle journey through Blynn’s stages of grief, leaving him despondent but accepting of his tragic loss.