Choosing to Be a Man: A Review of Martin Luke Brown’s man oh man!

Prominent subsections of Western cultures often valorise traditionally masculine vices and, in turn, misunderstand the aims and ideas underpinning modern feminism. This turmoil leaves a vacuum begging to be filled by an understanding of men's place in feminism. However, many men view the work of feminists as "anti-male", diminishing the social position of men at the benefit of women. The movement's goal — to empower people to rid themselves of oppression — is often lost on men. This belief that the patriarchal oppression to be removed is borne solely by women, rather than a burden shared by all those without power, has led men to feel they have no place in feminism and to lack the inspiration to imagine one. Thankfully, a recent semi-lucid nap of mine was blessed by Martin Luke Brown's album man oh man ! and its resolute and caring understanding of what it means to be a person, a man, and a feminist in the modern day. 

Starting by way of introduction, the album's first song, "hello !" lulls us with a calming groove and nestles us between the introspective themes resting on the album's oddly stimulating bed. Underneath the floating melodies, Brown alludes to some of the banal existential thoughts that can swim through one's head unnoticed. Irrational care for another, bewilderment at constant change, and yearning for a past are all washed away when Brown affirms that he "is an ever-changing person" who "don't need to pretend" before asserting his self as "a blank, new page". By reconciling the life of his past self with the new desires and sensations that come bundled with the current self, Brown prepares us for an album rife with flux where persistent acknowledgement of and care for the person who we were will help guide the, often, chaotic feelings of our present self. Feeling estranged from one's past self is bound to happen, and we've still got to love them anyhow. 

Along the path of pleasing tunes laid by the next spill of songs, each urging the heart to move the body in a soft sway, Brown expounds upon the classic concerns that arise from the flux of living a life. The groovy "back 2 ya" recounts the pains that linger in the past self and the relationships they had that we continue to cherish despite forgetting why. While we struggle to remember the past as time moves on, change blurs past us and splatters on our faces, which "this is me" calmly spirals around and struggles to appreciate, while hinting at the need to feel loved to feel stable. 

Such stability is difficult to find and is instead met with the rapid heartbeat of the drum in "animal", overlaying the feeling of craze that bubbles up when we think about the future. By the end of this gauntlet, we are trapped in the thought of death in the present, left chasing a freer, simpler life. 

Up until now, Brown has focused on aspects of the human condition shared by all — perhaps with a sprinkling of archaically masculine pains, such as the woes of stoicism; yet even these lend themselves to all. However, the frustrations with the changing self that built up through the prior songs pop in a quintessentially masculine bang in "chew u UP". Possession and control encircle an almost heroic and ravenous passion that, at first glance, appears directed towards the "beautiful face" and "fucked up mind" of a woman whom Brown wants to "spit you out then chew you up again". Yet it becomes clear that the passion lacks respect, bearing a feeling of entitlement, when Brown reflects and notes, "I don't really give a fuck 'cause I'm in pain and you're my gas and air". He makes it potent that, by virtue of being a man navigating a patriarchal world, the search to handle his pain will easily leach into the dehumanisation of others, regardless of how much he feels he must "hold it down". 

Brown's externalisation of the pain within him onto others, thankfully, does not last long as he rapidly recoils into reflection, learning, and empathy in the next song - "say less !". Immediately, we are met with the mantra "communicate, open up, straight from the tap no sippy cup" showcasing Brown's newfound understanding of how he is best himself in relation to others. The entire song is inflated with an excitement pouring out of a sense of calm derived from his clarity. Doing becomes easy when he listens to the natural cues from life around him, with the chorus reading "I'll rest when I'm dead, I'll eat when I'm fed, I'll swim when it's wet". This culminates in a learning that I — seemingly like Brown — grasped in my twenties, though many women in my life had internalised since childhood: "you say more when you say less". That is, by giving space when talking to someone, you allow their thoughts to breathe and be spoken, enabling more to be said and facilitating a conversation with another. This song marks a turning point in the album, a point where Brown, through self-reflection, is more able to face his past, future, and current self with empathy, and is even trying to pass this on to others. 

With his new outlook on life, Brown revisits the woes he lamented and the mistakes he detailed in the songs up to and including "chew u UP". He offers compassion to his past selves and relationships in "this love's gonna go nowhere", a song bleeding with love and asserting that one's feelings for such relationships are going to keep bleeding, and there's nothing to do about it. Not to leave more woeful, Brown soothes his selves and relationships with "on my heavy, heavy heart you will rest" to declare that with him is the best place for them to bleed. 

Having finally settled his inner, personal conflicts, Brown turns his empathy towards the systemic problems he is familiar with, in particular, his role as a man. "to be a man" is a sombre and aching tune that drifts through Brown's experience with societal expectations of manhood, and the consequences endured by a friend of his who could endure no more. Many of the stoic pains from earlier songs arise again — "walk around looking down with my head down low" — but this time Brown has learnt he can rely on others — "call my mum, call my dad, call a therapist". Brown even extrapolates his prior urges for control to the atrocities of many male world leaders, who he identifies as lacking empathy. However, he still finds the strength to give them compassion, noting "wage a war, anything to prove, that you are worthy of unconditional love". Brown finishes the song stating that he "don't understand" what it means to be a man, and yet this doesn't matter because regardless of the answer he still pleads, "won't someone hold my hand?". For Brown, it seems, being a man relies on two things: offering hands to hold, and having your hand held in return. 

Listening to this album felt both transformative and transient. I managed to listen through it during both aimless, late-night walks where Brown's words accented reflections on my life, and sudden spurts of midday productivity where Brown's music kept me in a mindless trance. Initially, I liked it for its nice sounds and words, then I began to enjoy and respect what Brown had to say about dealing with being alive, but I fell in love when, like poetry, each listen gifted me a new insight into truly caring for others. Brown makes it obvious that loving others requires loving the others within your multidimensional selves first — all the past and current selves and relationships they had and have, along with the personas of others you made up to cope in the past. In this way, man oh man! exemplifies unapologetically feminist values: empathy begins within, and only then can these skills be applied externally for social betterment, as Brown does in lending an olive branch to other men. Understanding, reciprocity, and love are what we should strive for; not control nor power in their finality. This sentiment is what Brown details in his final song, "good god you've gotta try !". So, I invite the reader to listen to this beautiful album until the end and see where you find the empathy.