🎵
In October of this year, I counted Blake Ortiz-Goldberg of the musical act Blaketheman1000 a casual friend. He was going to be in the city for October, so we went to Balthazar and then walked to the Chelsea Piers, talking about God and stuff, and he wound up showing me his unfinished mixtape.
My throat was caught with his ingenuity. I love lyricists who aren’t overly concerned with planting poetry everywhere, because then it becomes it naturally. He showed me the song from the end of the mixtape that was to become For Those With Eyes to See, “Me & Mary,” which has this one line, “Remember, Mary / Everything back then felt impossible, and now / Everything feels impossible,” which IMHO you can count among the ranks of the Beach Boys one that first asserts that Carl Wilson may not always love her and then follows that so long as there are stars above her, he will. That sort of special phraseology is what Blake’s lyricism is about: desolation and heartbreak and want, all wrapped up in the digestible package of referential stuff like Raimundo jeans and Bushwick handpokes and white Latinas. That stuff is devastating. It just is. Sometimes with a Blake song you have to go searching for the sad stuff, and sometimes, maybe during a Coldplay cover, you’re just crying accidentally. Anyway, not to make everything about me, but I heard those “Me & Mary” lyrics from his iPhone speaker as we were looking out at those cement mushrooms that give me submechanophobia and I knew we would go on to talk about the God stuff as good friends, and we have. Also, everything literally is about me because I’m on the freaking cover crying tears.
My throat was caught with his ingenuity. I love lyricists who aren’t overly concerned with planting poetry everywhere, because then it becomes it naturally. He showed me the song from the end of the mixtape that was to become For Those With Eyes to See, “Me & Mary,” which has this one line, “Remember, Mary / Everything back then felt impossible, and now / Everything feels impossible,” which IMHO you can count among the ranks of the Beach Boys one that first asserts that Carl Wilson may not always love her and then follows that so long as there are stars above her, he will. That sort of special phraseology is what Blake’s lyricism is about: desolation and heartbreak and want, all wrapped up in the digestible package of referential stuff like Raimundo jeans and Bushwick handpokes and white Latinas. That stuff is devastating. It just is. Sometimes with a Blake song you have to go searching for the sad stuff, and sometimes, maybe during a Coldplay cover, you’re just crying accidentally. Anyway, not to make everything about me, but I heard those “Me & Mary” lyrics from his iPhone speaker as we were looking out at those cement mushrooms that give me submechanophobia and I knew we would go on to talk about the God stuff as good friends, and we have. Also, everything literally is about me because I’m on the freaking cover crying tears.
Dec 31, 2025