Everything In Transit, Except the Glass Passenger.

"Fuck yeah, we can live like this."
- Jack's Mannequin, "Holiday From Real"

Long before I packed my belongings and left the isolation booth that is the Midwest, before I ever came into direct contact with the ocean, I had dipped my toes into the sandy saltwater of the West Coast via one very important album: Jack’s Mannequin’s “Everything In Transit.” It let me live in California before I ever stepped outside of the cornfields and cold winters. I blame this album for making my last automobile get smashed in the face by a truck (who wasn’t playing anything nearly as cool as this album and, in a jealous fit of rage, succeeded in taking care of my car for good). Yeah, it’s that awesome.

What happens when you listen to awful music.

Everything In Tranist made me feel warm on days where temperatures dipped below zero. Each song depicted a different sunset that I could drive into while I actually drove toward a ranch-style house on a grassy hill. When I listened to that record, I could actually feel the sand between my toes and see a version of Santa Monica Boulevard that was much more satisfying than any street could ever be.

And more than two years after I first listened to it, I found myself on California’s doorstep, looking for the very things that Jack’s Mannequin had promised. I continue to seek them out like a checklist.


Everything In Transit is littered with lyrics that appear as deja vu, as if I’d already written them down in my own mental journal. Whether it be from the start of my time out here (“oh, California in the sun and my hair is growing long. Fuck yeah, we can live like this”) or from a time more recent (“on Third Street the freakshow thrives. Santa Monica’s alive but something’s not so right inside”), every song targets my experience in a different way. It’s even made some predictions about it. So far, it has predicted a mini-vacation (“the road we drove last night stretched from the desert to Las Vegas”), my encompassing sense of boastfulness (“there’s so much sun where I’m from, I had to give it away”), an impending near-future (“you’ll give up your job at the bank, proving money’s not fun when you’re gone”), and possible circumstances if we were to extend our stay (“I never thought that I’d be living on your floor, but rent’s are high and L.A.’s easy”).

Everything In Transit brings in the sunshine. Their second album, The Glass Passenger, sends in the rain.

The Glass Passenger is the dark to Everything In Transit’s daylight. The stormy skies to its puffy clouds. After having lived “the California dream” for a few months, I caught wind of the new album. I waited with baited breath to hear the latest rays of sunshine come out of the lead singer’s mouth; to be in the moment with the record and feel a connection in a way that I hadn’t been able to with the first album. That moment didn’t come. Because it seems that by the time I was able to live the dream, Jack’s Mannequin had already swept it up and tossed it in the nearest garbage bin. I listened to the stream of disenchanted lyrics and wondered how long it might take for me to feel the same way about this place. How long until I say “I don’t think that I’ll close my eyes, ‘cause lately I’m not dreaming. So what’s the point in sleeping?” How long until my motto becomes that of the song Swim: “I swim to brighter days despite the absence of sun. Choking on salt water, not giving in. I swim?” Or latch onto the words of Suicide Blonde as I become homesick: “Watched the planes landing from the roof of my treehouse in Burbank. I had that dream I was taking off...” Could that ever be me? It’s a question of following your hopes and relishing the small things that make life emanate sunlight or sinking into the big picture and falling victim to doubts and disenchantment. The light side or the dark side? Good...evil?

All that I can do is continue enjoying the lifestyle that California has to offer, so that when I return to the Midwest, I can say that I lived this one year to the fullest. No regrets. Hopefully, in the end, I will still relate most to that first album of good times and sandy beaches. Hopefully, everything will remain in transit.


This Entry In Song:
THE SUN: Jack's Mannequin - "I'm Ready"
THE RAIN: Jack's Mannequin - "Annie Use Your Telescope"

Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake