Aimee Mann Tackles Sorrow and Frustration in This 2002 Alt-Rock Track

All great artists tend to have a wheelhouse, that area in which they tend to deliver more satisfying results than just about anybody else. For Aimee Mann, that wheelhouse is the inner turmoil that most of us possess but tend to hide away from other people.

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Mann delivered an amazing song within this topic with the 2002 track “It’s Not”. The song depicts the harrowing stasis of depression.

‘Space’ Explored

Aimee Mann was coming off the greatest artistic triumph of her career when she made Lost In Space. Her previous album, Bachelor No. 2 Or, The Last Remains Of The Dodo, earned her the warmest reviews of her career.

That album also proved that Mann could deliver her music without being beholden to the studio system. After being frustrated by her attempts to record the LP at a major label, Mann was permitted to go out on her own. She formed her own label, SuperEgo Records, to release Bachelor No. 2.

Mann’s struggle to make all this happen gained a lot of media attention at the time. Having solved the problem and delivered such a satisfying record was a 1-2 punch of a victory for the artist. But those expecting Mann to reflect that with something upbeat the next time around were likely surprised by Lost In Space, released in 2002.

If anything, the characters on this record seem more befuddled and bereft in their various malaises. Mann simply gravitated to that material because delving into the human condition interested her more than coming out with a happy pop record. When penetrating songs like “It’s Not” are the result, it’s hard to argue with that decision.

Examining the Lyrics of “It’s Not”

The narrator of Aimee Mann finds herself locked in an endless loop of sorrow and frustration, like a hamster on a wheel. “I keep going round and round on the same old circuit,” she laments at the beginning of the song. She suggests perceptions of her world are misleading: “And from behind the screen it can look so perfect/But it’s not.”

In the next verse, her stagnancy manifests itself as a car stuck at a stoplight. “So red turns into green turning into yellow,” she explains. “But I’m just frozen here on the same old spot.” Moving forward is an impossibility. “And all I have to do is to press the pedal,” she says. “But I’m not.”

The middle eight explains why the narrator doesn’t share these deep doubts and frustrations. “People are tricky you can’t afford to show,” Mann sings. “Anything risky, anything they don’t know/The moment you try/Kiss it goodbye.” Her fear of reaching out for help may be justified. But it also perpetuates her struggles.

In the final verse, the narrator reaches out to receive a transportive kiss that will take her to another dimension: “Where I get lost in space that goes on forever/And you make all the rest just an afterthought.” But as soon as a little light enters this picture, Mann douses it with the truth. “And I believe it’s you who could make it better,” she sighs. “Though it’s not.”

“It’s Not” does an amazing job of evoking depression and the helpless feelings that go along with it. Cheerful? Not by any stretch. But those stuck in similarly devastating ruts who hear the song can at least feel less alone. Which is why we’d never ask Aimee Mann to leave that wheelhouse of hers.

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