Music is everywhere- in every department store, in every car radio, and in everyone’s pockets. Music has been the reason I can remember most of the first memories I have. The Beatles song “She Loves You” was once (and still kinda is) one of the few things that could calm me down during a tantrum. Days spent in a Fisher Price swing were only soothed by the fact that no matter what, my grandparents or mother would make sure that I was exposed to the finest of classic rock. Music was always something that made me feel as if I was destined for something larger than myself. Music was and is the thing that gave my heart its beat, and pushes my pulse through my veins.
For example, I am in a current love affair with a song that most people will be totally unfamiliar with. Thanks by Seventeen is genuinely a masterpiece, and I will both live and die by those words. Seventeen is a K-Pop group that debuted in 2015 and they are hands down my most favorite men on the planet outside of my immediate family. Most people get real hesitant when I talk about a boyband, and most dislike it even more when I bring up one that isn’t from America. But this song. I think that everyone has those one or two songs that, if they could be played from each side of their social circle and embrace the other end, those who love them would understand who they are just a little bit better. Thanks is that for me.
It begins, soft, sober, and in this beautiful shade of amber and bronze. It sounds like strings of lights hung from tree branch to tree branch of an outdoor proposal. The tinkling synthesizer in the background of the music feels like the waltz of fireflies. Once the bass drops before the first verse, it feels as if all of the 13 (yes, 13) performers in the group are each holding their breath. Waiting, and waiting for the right moment to talk about all that’s been on their minds.
The song focuses on the motifs of unrequited love that came from a friendship. Someone falling for every element and particle that makes up the person they see, but never having the courage or the perceived right to tell the other party how madly in love they are. However, this person, although missing out on every opportunity to be in love and have that love reciprocated, they don’t mourn in the traditional sense. They don’t mourn with heavy piano ballads and minor chords- they thank the other person for teaching them what love meant.
There’s an ever present chorus in the back- a light “hey!” shouted in unison by the other people in the group. This helps to highlight the soft vocals in the first verse, and serve to act as a symbolic wake up call for our main narrator/songwriter. This is the push to get the song moving. Once the drum beats come in harsher and more prominently in the mix, the entire world shifts. Melodies become new and this revolution is paired with bright, near ethereal vocals that hold such heavy love and mourning; the voice mixes the two to the point where colors bleed into notes and feel like holding hands for the last time.
For once in the song, a rare thing happens- the firefly sounds above drop to a lower level in the mix, and the percussion is now heavy hitting, to accompany rappers. Rap is something I love and adore with a piece of myself I’m still learning to write about. The verses here talk about the painful reality of childhood. As a child, you love so wholly without the vocabulary to describe your depth. You love without limits and boundaries, but can’t look at how vast your emotional plain is until you have to pull it all back, learning who you need to keep out.
The bridge before the first chorus is maybe the closest I’ve felt to knowing what it’s like to have a cup of coffee with God. The bass doesn’t drop, it’s falls and lands like a bird with heavy wings. The chimes come in like a glittering array of bejeweled emotions, and the song feels like the colors burnt orange and deep rich mahogany. This deep and rich sound is coupled with a light tenor voice belonging to my favorite member of the group (Lee Jihoon). The drums have been exchanged for piano. Soft and gentle chords, graced by the light of chimes. Thank you. Thank you. The lyrics say. Even the waiting, the longing. All of our memories. There is beauty to be found in the folds of sadness.
Once the chorus begins, the piano continues, like a baseline of regrets, with the drums now laying upon all that the narrator has been through. The heartbeat of the percussion is palpable- feeling with each beat that something is welling in your throat, tears and things you need to say. This is the first release of emotions and of feelings when, previously, they couldn’t be spoken. This has two amazing vocalists on the top of the mix, ending in a gorgeous harmony.
The first chorus was the thing that sold this song for me. I loved, loved, loved feeling this so deeply. The synthesizer fireflies came in at full force, shining more like stars that lighting bugs.
The song repeats similar motifs, but there are some definite changes. The parts that are repeated vocally don’t sound like those of loss. They sound like introspection and understanding. Yes, I tried my best and yes, it didn’t work. I didn’t know what I was doing. But I can love the time that I loved you, even if you couldn’t know enough to love me back. The chimes are far more frequent, and now the percussion and the synthesizer are equals. The sound isn’t compromising itself for anyone. The sounds are together. Whole. It makes me think that to be loved is to be loved for all you are. If you are sick of breaking yourself into pieces, stay whole and let them choke, and find someone who can engulf all that you are. This part of the music seems to be a celebration of what happened as opposed to a mourning of what didn’t. It feels like healing. Reconciliation.
The second time the chorus starts, it feels like heartbeats make up the backing beat, and the vocals are sad, but they are sad in a productive and loving way. A way that shows how far you’ve come from where you started and how close you are to loving yourself so that you can love someone else in that way that you want to.
The very final bridge is gentle and calm. The compressed sand on wet shores. The lyric that I love the most here is:
Even if you erase me
We won’t change
No matter where the two in this song’s story go, they can’t necessarily get away from the time they shared.
Then. The finale. The last chorus. It sounds like acceptance. Like an excitement for what’s ahead. It sounds like understanding. With each repetition of thanks, it feels like, step by step, these musicians are healing. There’s a new swelling bass within the music. And the last two vocalists who sing have completely contrasting vocal tones. It ends with the same firefly synth gently ending, laying to rest all the emotions that came before it.
Now, this blog is legitimately so important to me. This song means way more to me than even these words show. This is genuinely one of the most important pieces of art I can name. I’ve tried explaining to my mom why I love it, and every time I do, it ends up making me cry. Not just some sniffling and voice breaks, but totally sobbing, with the sheer amount I feel. I feel so deeply when listening to music. I think that’s why I’m so scared to make music, because what do I do if I pour more than I have to give into this and can’t get the world to dance to the rhythm I write?
I think I’m so scared to dive into music not because its a risky business- I’m living in a pandemic, going to Target is risky business. I’m scared because what if I can’t do this art form justice? What if I can’t get all my emotions across in 3 minutes and 30 seconds of music? What if I can’t get that story that I can trace my veins from onto ledger lines and DAWs? I think that’s what scares me. Loving something so much grander than myself that I can’t find a way to make sure that what I do is perfect. I am a perfectionist, and that is my toxic trait. I expect myself to be perfect no matter what, even though I’ve proven to myself that that isn’t possible. I know I can’t be perfect, but I need my music to be.
The producer and songwriter of Thanks is someone I need to talk to. His name is Lee Jihoon or his stage name, Woozi. I am utterly infatuated with everything he does. He has over 100 songs credited to his name, and all of them have hit me in a way that I wasn’t ready to block the impact of. I love him and his work, and I think that I need to tell him exactly what I think about this song. Thanks is something I will never get over, and never be okay with vocalizing my feelings about. He is brilliant, and I hope that I’ll get to thank him for his influence on me.
Till then, and until I’m an ultra famous pop star, I’ll stick to singing The Beatles in my kitchen.
Here's a link to the lyrics and the video, in case you are curious: https://genius.com/Seventeen-thanks-lyrics https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZItyr1SNjU
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