Beauty, the fifth studio album by singer-songwriter Michael Rider (they/them), untangles the web of an abusive relationship during a time of great isolation under Covid-19. The artist writes about feelings of turbulent Read more
Beauty, the fifth studio album by singer-songwriter Michael Rider (they/them), untangles the web of an abusive relationship during a time of great isolation under Covid-19. The artist writes about feelings of turbulent love, losing trust in oneself, and trying to be a good partner to the wrong person.
“I wanted to express this story as it is one I’ve heard before, especially as someone in the LGBTQIA+ community. I never thought I would be a victim. But I realized, if it could happen to me, it could happen to anyone. I didn’t want to stay quiet.”
Rider sings of the different phases in a toxic partnership, colored by the isolation of the pandemic. The opener, “Hooked on You,” captures feelings of codependency, desperately wanting to be free from someone, yet unable to leave, with a sticky refrain mimicking just how circular thoughts can become when trapped in this cycle.
“Try Real Hard” sympathizes with an abuser, unpacking the circumstances that led to their pain and harmful behavior.
“When It Rains, It Storms” is a song of nurturing, demonstrating the vulnerability of an abuser and how their victim stays due to that weakness. Several tracks take time to zoom out of personal affairs, painting a harsh picture of the time.
“Mind Control” is about the underlying paranoia of surveillance in the modern era, and “Come to Find You’re Fine” touches on the bleakness of city life. Each track portrays a person not in control of their life, stuck in a tangle of emotions and trauma that keeps them tied to a harmful situation. The final two tracks, “Swans” and “Peace,” are conclusions to the hurt, when the subject is able to pull themselves out of their depressive state and find self-worth again: “It’s not time to give up on yourself/It’s not time to give up on your dreams.”
The album is a collaboration between co-producer M the Myth (they/them) and Rider. The title, Beauty, is partially inspired by their western astrological signs both being ruled by the goddess of love and beauty, Venus. It was produced entirely over Zoom, much like the time period evoked in the work, with Rider in New York City and M in Fresno, California. This project marks their second studio album to be released with Grimalkin Records, a collective of like-minded creatives championing the work of marginalized voices, including queer, disabled, BIPOC, and neurodiverse. Rider currently serves as a board member for the organization.
Rider moved to New York City from Richmond, VA in 2013 to attend the School of Visual Arts. Having been a student of both Richmond painter Mary Scurlock (Center for the Arts) and singer/songwriter, Charlotte Martin (Something Like A Music School) Rider’s training is a reflection of their unique visions. They broke their teeth playing open mics at The SideWalk Cafe (Regina Spektor, Moldy Peaches, and Kimya Dawson), playing shows along the east coast, and releasing four studio albums since 2011. Their latest album, Cycle, was Wavy Award nominated in 2022 for Best Album.
We met on a dating app. He had a hard life; no stable home since his teens, and no family to look out for him. I was raised with a great sense of duty to others. I tried my hardest to practice compassion with him: to nurture, to care, and to protect. In my quest to fill the hole I saw in his heart, I ignored every red flag he threw at me. I even invited him to live with me for a year. I’d come to find that this person I’d invited into my life was my moral opposite, with a penchant for aggression and hatred. I couldn’t understand why we stayed together. I didn’t know why he liked me, or if I ever even liked him. Did we truly ever care for each other? But I went along, thinking that I could love him out of his hatefulness and prove to him that the world wasn’t such a bad place.
Things were peaceful when I stayed quiet, silencing my thoughts and beliefs. I was fine when fully absorbed in our own little world, away from the opinions of others. In that perceived contentment, I felt my inner fire dim. I was exhausted, both creatively and emotionally. My once ambitious nature had dulled to disinterest. I didn’t realize how depressed I had become, and the person causing it seemed to be the only one who could make me feel better. The drug of codependency was coursing through me.
I started to realize how worried the people in my life were. I was combative, defending him and our relationship, until I realized everyone who cared about me was telling me to run. Clearly, I wasn’t seeing this relationship for the horror it was, but if everyone else did, it was time to listen. During that time, he would disappear. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for a day. He’d slink back home to me in the evening, getting upset when I’d ask him where he’d gone. He made me question my sanity with his explanations. I couldn’t trust myself nor him. As my instability turned to frustration, I started fighting back. Things began to get physical, and I was terrified. I wasn’t safe in my own home. I had to get this man out of my life.
Upon reflecting, I’d always considered my compassion to be one of my greatest virtues, a great beauty. I thought showing kindness and understanding to others could never lead me astray. I wanted to help him by showing him love, and in the process, I stopped loving myself. He needed serious help beyond a nurturing relationship, and I needed my own help. I have learned to trust my instincts and listen to those around me, and use that beautiful compassion with those who won’t abuse it.
Rider moved to New York City from Richmond, VA in 2013 to attend the School of Visual Arts. Having been a student of both Richmond painter Mary Scurlock (Center for the Arts) and singer/songwriter, Charlotte Martin (Something Like A Music School) Rider’s training is a reflection of their unique visions. They broke their teeth playing open mics at The SideWalk Cafe (Regina Spektor, Moldy Peaches, and Kimya Dawson), playing shows along the east coast, and releasing four studio albums since 2011. Their latest album, Cycle, was Wavy Award nominated in 2022 for Best Album.
“I wanted to express this story as it is one I’ve heard before, especially as someone in the LGBTQIA+ community. I never thought I would be a victim. But I realized, if it could happen to me, it could happen to anyone. I didn’t want to stay quiet.”
Rider sings of the different phases in a toxic partnership, colored by the isolation of the pandemic. The opener, “Hooked on You,” captures feelings of codependency, desperately wanting to be free from someone, yet unable to leave, with a sticky refrain mimicking just how circular thoughts can become when trapped in this cycle.
“Try Real Hard” sympathizes with an abuser, unpacking the circumstances that led to their pain and harmful behavior.
“When It Rains, It Storms” is a song of nurturing, demonstrating the vulnerability of an abuser and how their victim stays due to that weakness. Several tracks take time to zoom out of personal affairs, painting a harsh picture of the time.
“Mind Control” is about the underlying paranoia of surveillance in the modern era, and “Come to Find You’re Fine” touches on the bleakness of city life. Each track portrays a person not in control of their life, stuck in a tangle of emotions and trauma that keeps them tied to a harmful situation. The final two tracks, “Swans” and “Peace,” are conclusions to the hurt, when the subject is able to pull themselves out of their depressive state and find self-worth again: “It’s not time to give up on yourself/It’s not time to give up on your dreams.”
The album is a collaboration between co-producer M the Myth (they/them) and Rider. The title, Beauty, is partially inspired by their western astrological signs both being ruled by the goddess of love and beauty, Venus. It was produced entirely over Zoom, much like the time period evoked in the work, with Rider in New York City and M in Fresno, California. This project marks their second studio album to be released with Grimalkin Records, a collective of like-minded creatives championing the work of marginalized voices, including queer, disabled, BIPOC, and neurodiverse. Rider currently serves as a board member for the organization.
Rider moved to New York City from Richmond, VA in 2013 to attend the School of Visual Arts. Having been a student of both Richmond painter Mary Scurlock (Center for the Arts) and singer/songwriter, Charlotte Martin (Something Like A Music School) Rider’s training is a reflection of their unique visions. They broke their teeth playing open mics at The SideWalk Cafe (Regina Spektor, Moldy Peaches, and Kimya Dawson), playing shows along the east coast, and releasing four studio albums since 2011. Their latest album, Cycle, was Wavy Award nominated in 2022 for Best Album.
We met on a dating app. He had a hard life; no stable home since his teens, and no family to look out for him. I was raised with a great sense of duty to others. I tried my hardest to practice compassion with him: to nurture, to care, and to protect. In my quest to fill the hole I saw in his heart, I ignored every red flag he threw at me. I even invited him to live with me for a year. I’d come to find that this person I’d invited into my life was my moral opposite, with a penchant for aggression and hatred. I couldn’t understand why we stayed together. I didn’t know why he liked me, or if I ever even liked him. Did we truly ever care for each other? But I went along, thinking that I could love him out of his hatefulness and prove to him that the world wasn’t such a bad place.
Things were peaceful when I stayed quiet, silencing my thoughts and beliefs. I was fine when fully absorbed in our own little world, away from the opinions of others. In that perceived contentment, I felt my inner fire dim. I was exhausted, both creatively and emotionally. My once ambitious nature had dulled to disinterest. I didn’t realize how depressed I had become, and the person causing it seemed to be the only one who could make me feel better. The drug of codependency was coursing through me.
I started to realize how worried the people in my life were. I was combative, defending him and our relationship, until I realized everyone who cared about me was telling me to run. Clearly, I wasn’t seeing this relationship for the horror it was, but if everyone else did, it was time to listen. During that time, he would disappear. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for a day. He’d slink back home to me in the evening, getting upset when I’d ask him where he’d gone. He made me question my sanity with his explanations. I couldn’t trust myself nor him. As my instability turned to frustration, I started fighting back. Things began to get physical, and I was terrified. I wasn’t safe in my own home. I had to get this man out of my life.
Upon reflecting, I’d always considered my compassion to be one of my greatest virtues, a great beauty. I thought showing kindness and understanding to others could never lead me astray. I wanted to help him by showing him love, and in the process, I stopped loving myself. He needed serious help beyond a nurturing relationship, and I needed my own help. I have learned to trust my instincts and listen to those around me, and use that beautiful compassion with those who won’t abuse it.
Rider moved to New York City from Richmond, VA in 2013 to attend the School of Visual Arts. Having been a student of both Richmond painter Mary Scurlock (Center for the Arts) and singer/songwriter, Charlotte Martin (Something Like A Music School) Rider’s training is a reflection of their unique visions. They broke their teeth playing open mics at The SideWalk Cafe (Regina Spektor, Moldy Peaches, and Kimya Dawson), playing shows along the east coast, and releasing four studio albums since 2011. Their latest album, Cycle, was Wavy Award nominated in 2022 for Best Album.