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We’re All At Our Tiny Desk

March 25, 2021

White Pine Pickle
Abe Yammich
Thought Leader

I think that it’s safe to say—we’ve all been lacking one thing in our dull and mundane lives. And that’s seeing into the lives of others. Specifically the musicians that we love and idolize; the ones we talk about on the internet!

We’ve been missing that one-sided, bitter connection to the performers on stage. We haven’t been able to see them at all over the last year. What are we expected to feel?

We’ve all been in our homes living through a miserable time online and alone with nothing but our screens to keep us company. But that’s not quite true, is it?

Thanks to the unwelcome COVID-19 pandemic, we’re getting a special treat from NPR’s Tiny Desk Concerts—once filmed live in their D.C. office at desk of “All Songs Considered” host Bob Boilen, now moved to the living rooms of musicians across the globe.

You can finally gaze into the living rooms of people like Miley Cyrus, Justin Beiber, and Billie Eilish. You can focus on their imperfections on loop and listen to the sweet music as it fills up a space that you’ll never know. And the best part is: they have no idea!

I’m familiarizing myself with Beiber’s carpeting and his Nord Stage 2 keyboard more than I ever thought I would—and finding myself with all sorts of jealousy for existence he has to fill up.

I wonder what it would be like to wander around the Cyrus kitchen in the middle of the night when craving a glass of cold tap water.

What kind of things would I step on in an unfamiliar home? Who would I wake up by being too loud?
But I’ll never get to know the answers to these questions, will I?

I’m just some random kid from northern Michigan, speculating as I try to not let myself get sucked through the computer screen.

I don’t think I’d be too welcome in Eilish’s house. She and her brother, Finneas, would probably call their parents over and ask why there’s a stranger who looks like he just went through some intense interdimensional shit—just to look like dirt in their living room.

I wouldn’t have a logical answer for them, and I don’t think they’d look too kindly at my accidental breaking and entering.

Billie would write no song about it. It wouldn’t be my moment to shine. No. I’d just be the creep that’s in your living room.

Not your friend.


Not a fan.

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