High Maintenance meets Higher Education: the best places to listen to the HBO show’s soundtrack in Berkeley

Disclaimer: Please go watch High Maintenance so that in 20 years, you can say you watched the show of our generation while it was live.

High Maintenance captures people, it captures the idiosyncratic yet the normal. I guess I find it normal. Actually instead and a bit more simply, it captures emotion. And, okay yeah, an asexual magician at a Passover dinner is odd (Episode 9, Web Series), but perhaps we all have some form of an asexual magician in our lives. Better, High Maintenance captures connection. After all, it’s about a New York City weed dealer, fittingly unnamed as “The Guy,” and the people he meets. Small to large, it’s about the awkward stare after having your balls milked on a first date, and to the latter, it’s about dealing with the element of constant death as a veterinarian by microdosing magic mushrooms (Web Series Episode 1, Season 3, Episode 6). It’s the illuminative enhancement of the banal, the confines of mortality, and it’s the representation of our lives. Human lives.

The shots are great, the dialogue profound, and the narrative vignettes better. But what makes this High Maintenance world most tangible, most weird, and most expressive is the music. The Guy’s bike wheels are the show’s play button, and his beard the playlist. The sounds blend in, sometimes off in the distance, only humbly enhancing the scene, or they’re so close, so memorable and emphatic that for a few fleeting moments while watching the show, it seems as though you have earbuds in.

Everyday, we bike through New York City effortlessly noticing everything, sometimes stopping to get a closed-viewing of an old lady wearing a pink cowboy hat and playing ambient sounds on a keyboard. We deal to all of our customers and sometimes to ourselves. And we repeat this or variants of routines, again and again, except “The Guy’s” schedule doesn’t precisely match ours, per se. Ours goes a little more like:

Everyday, we walk through Berkeley, effortlessly noticing everything, sometimes stopping to get a closed-viewing of an old man wearing twelve trash bags, colored sunglasses, and replicating the movements of a dinosaur (see man under Sather Gate). We deal to all of our strange professors, navigating a little bubble of peculiarity, and sometimes we sit on a stale leather couch that valiantly lives in High Maintenance-land, where our friends collect and our thoughts entwine.

Everyone has a variant of that paragraph, some way or another, which is the reason the High Maintenance soundtrack is a perfect walking, observing playlist. And, you get to recollect the subtle vignettes, the little moments, the feelings of the show as it captures the intricacies of the roller coaster a day permits. So, I’ve picked some my favorite songs and moments from High Maintenance (Season One through Season Three — had to omit the 17 episode Web Series) and, correlatingingly, some of my favorite Berkeley sights for these songs. Below I explain the top ten instances in which song and scene compound perfectly (but at the bottom of the article you’ll find my top 50 High Maintenance songs in a cheeky little Spotify playlist).

SEASON 1

“Supreme” – Ratatat

Season 1, Episode 2: Museebat

Scene: Eesha, a college student who lives with her aunt in Brooklyn, struggles to balance the strictness of an orthodox Muslim lifestyle and the liberality of her social life. “Supreme,” Ratatat’s synthesized and orchestral take on Santo & Johnny’s classic riff, relieves Eesha of her internal dilemma as she resorts to the roof of her building to smoke some weed. Conch shells, shining sunlight, Hawaiian steel, and a 2$ pipe with floral patterns.

Berkeley Equivalent: Take a walk up to the fire trails after a stressful day of class. There’s a really big track field. Take your shoes off. Walk on the dirt. Play Supreme by Ratatat. Hopefully, some older Berkeley folk are playing frisbee. Watch the frisbee glide in the air. Play frisbee?

“Dream Baby Dream” – Suicide

Season 1, Episode 3: Grandpa (Best Episode in Season 1)

Scene: Gatsby, a highly sensitive poodle mix, found love in his dog walker. Then, his dog walker took advantage of Gatsby. Gatsby, in the act of love, ran away from his home in search for his love across NYC. Instead, he finds a true home with some loyal and humble homeless people. Gatsby finds solace in his new beatnik crowd, as the drums of electro-punk hit “Dream Baby Dream” sink with the drums of the homeless lady’s readymade bucket and sticks. Gatsby floats into a dream of his own.

Berkeley Equivalent: Feeling inspired after a lecture? Creative juices begin to flow — you gotta go. But, before falling into a loophole of research or formulating ideas, take a look at the silver sculpture near Evans. Let the cyclical drums of “Dream Baby Dream” lead your eyes along the silver tubulars. Let your thoughts wander in the pond below.

“Chameleon World” – Jerry Paper

Season 1, Episode 5: Selfie

Scene: After transgressing through the life of a social media addicted writer, Jerry Paper’s “Chameleon World” and The Guy’s seamless bike ride through oddly calm NYC streets brings us back to the real tangible world only to be rapidly turned upside down by another social media post. The Guy, quite figuratively, blends into the world and people’s worlds, shifting his words to appease the next customer…a weed dealing chameleon.

Berkeley Equivalent: Put down your phone, go get some lunch, and sit on the steps on Sproul — the ones near the second floor of MLK student union. People-watch and blend in. Admire everyone’s walk, examine their speed, imagine conversations, note down some clean fits.

SEASON 2

“Tessellation” – Mild High Club

Season 2, Episode 3: Namaste

Scene: A hardworking realtor takes a rip of her pen as “Tessellation” loudly enters in through one ear, and then quietly out the other as the scene transforms into a still image of a bong and an empty bowl. Over the image of the paraphernalia and Mild High Club’s jazzy tambourine, we hear sexually intense sentences but we only find a man petting his girlfriend with a feather while she, wearing VR goggles, reaches outward with her hand. Overlapping storylines, and lives, overlapping calls to the weed guy, overlapping sounds. Hence, “Tessellation.”

Berkeley Equivalent: You know that line of trees next to the Campanile? Those odd ripening-yet-dead trees that seem right out of a Harry Potter book? “Tessellation.”

Lost in Translation 1 – Infinite Bisous

Season 2, Episode 3: Namaste

Scene: The ending sequence of each episode reminds the viewer of the multi-narrative aspect of the show — that people go on with their lives after they see The Guy. Again, we hear the milieu of liquid from Infinite Bisous, as our VR addict flails his arms out and dances in the wind of smoke.

Berkeley Equivalent: Take this pensive bassdrum to Main Stacks. “I want you to be anywhere, but here, with me.” Walk amongst the stacks, find some R. Crumb cartoons and some maps of the Aegean sea. There’s some wild shit down there.

“The Past Tense” – Infinite Bisous

Season 2, Episode 4: Derech

Scene: Baruch, a Hasidic Jew — or an ex-Hasidic Jew — has woken up to the news that he has a date with Anja (social media-addicted writer) to attend to. Giddily, he jumps from his couch to shave his beard. While staring into his eyes, Infinite Bisous’ intensifying, infectious build up harmonizes with the droplets of shower water. The razor drives across his fingers, as he removes each tiny pigment of his past. “For me to move on, I need you to be strong.” Infinite Bisous make us question subjectivity and objectivity, here. (You’ll see what I’m talking about, as the identity changes in this episode).

Berkeley Equivalent: The bells of the Campanile ring across campus. The sky is grey, the leaves are dancing. Stare at the flagpole across from the Zoology building. Students are going to their next History class, their next CS class, or they’re watching the flagpole, too. It seems as though Infinite Bisous has mastered the internal and external observationist song.

“Every Single Thing” – Homeshake

Season 2, Episode 4:

Scene: A loud, rambunctious New Yorker disrupts his Uberpool, his voice extending outside of the car as The Guy and the juxtaposing slow, simple life of a few city dwellers pass by. As the warped sounds of the song transform, the scenes transform too — The Guy passing different cars and different buildings. The Guy takes a rip of his pen, and a wide shot of him riding down the boulevard ensues. A dreamlike performance only enhanced by the lo-fi R&B beat and high, trembling voice of Homeshake’s lead, Peter Sagar.

Berkeley Equivalent: Homeshake profoundly describes his own music as “when you walk alone, you are never lost.” So, I urge you to walk alone to the opening hollow voice of the track — “Are you even paying attention to me right now?” As to where, perhaps Northside on a relatively sunny day. Transcend campus boundaries and take a look at that elaborate Victorian house on the corner of one of those streets (you’ll know which one).

“Suddenly” – Drugdealer

Season 2, Episode 5: Scromple

Scene: A blunt and a brutally honest therapist are leaving her office. As she turns the corner, she sees the patient she rudely — but perhaps professionally — dismissed from her appointment. In an awkward attempt to avoid eye contact, she quickly turns to walk across the street, but as she steps just beyond the parked cars, The Guy nearly hits her and has to swerve out of the way, hitting a car and flying off his bike onto his back — all while the climax of Drugdealer’s “Suddenly” instantaneously mirrors the fall. The song expands into the next scene, with blissful and impressionistic shots of the hospital and The Guy, numb off of morphine, staring blankly and fearfully at the ceiling, attempting to wiggle his left hand. As the song returns to its morbid state — a back and forth sequence, to say the least — the nurse opens the curtain. This is one of my favorite moments in all of High Maintenance, and it occurs in what is quite possibly my favorite episode.

Berkeley Equivalent: Drugdealer’s “Suddenly” illustrates the lights and darks of a hallucinogenic trip. Slippery, totally psychedelic, and oddly ethereal, it relies on the concept of returning home in the light of day only to be entranced by these distant horns and to fall into the dark of night. “I’m Home Again” is a lyric from the song that reverberates throughout, and is interrupted by “Suddenly, my eyes are open,” creating a sense of epiphany-like easeless tension. So with that said, “Suddenly” is perfect for a place that conserves light, omits it at times, and plays with it — the dense, arid forests of Tilden.  

“Did You Ever Notice” – Travis Bretzer

Season 2, Episode 5: Scromple

Scene: After nearly having a weed-induced heart attack (we’ve all been there), The Guy, at a point of pure euphoria onset by a mix of his weed pen and the pain medications, begins to acutely notice everything that’s happening in the hospital: the shuttering of his eyes, the conversation in the bed over, the feeling of the hospital linens. Far less intensified than the jungle of vicious sounds only sequences before, The Guy, accompanied by Travis Bretzer’s carefree and whimsical tune, fuses with the conversations and the sounds of the hospital. The Guy howls, unimpacted by the weird looks he receives.

Berkeley Equivalent: Did you ever notice the art exhibits they curate on the first floor of Doe? Have you ever looked at the grande ceiling of Doe and focused on one of the floral panels? Or the gilded lamps at each table? How about the marble bathrooms on the third floor? Take notice of the small beauties in lofty Doe. It’s a trip.

“Lying Has to Stop” – Soft Hair

Season 2, Episode 5: Scromple

Scene (the best scene in the season): as “Did You Ever Notice” slowly dies out and the incessant beeping of The Guy’s heart amplifies, he gazes over at this African-American man in a wheelchair, who in the entirety of the episode, goes unhelped, despite looking as though he is in need of medical assistance. The odd, spooky beginning of “Lying Has to Stop” plays while the man gets out of his wheelchair and puts on a break dance performance for The Guy, timed perfectly with the song’s cadence. Bewildered, The Guy begins to laugh and applaud the man with “oooooh, he’s breaking,” only to have the song and dance abruptly cut off by the entrance of his ex-wife and best friend.

Berkeley Equivalent: “Lying Has to Stop” is a weird song by a weird band with a weird cover and it takes a while to even get to the groovy parts. Oceanic sounds and the crashing of waves combined with aloof, bubbly bath noises create a perfect song to go anywhere in Berkeley where there’s water. If it’s raining, walk outside and get wet. Go to the Clark Kerr pool or the one behind the softball field. The Hearst pool, or what once was, is totally spooky. They even have the old lockers and pictures of college girls and boys lifting weights and what not.

“OOOUUU” – Young M.A.

Season 2, Episode 7: HBD

Scene: Emily has some of her sexually open, socially uninhibited friends over for her birthday. They talk about bleaching pubes and love interests — boys and girls — and Emily opens her presents: a didlo and some incense, amongst other gifts you’d imagine progressive Brooklynites would buy. An amateurish naturality and glow take over the night as the girls smoke and drink within the confines of Emily’s room. At different levels of drunkenness and thought, we hear “OOOUUU” come on, a rap ballad by Young M.A., a gender binding hip-hop anomaly. Two of the girls get up and perform their own rendition of the song, with bottle in hand, of course. The scene offers an affectionate window into the life of a sexually confused teen enhanced by the music, her surroundings, and the ultimate happenings of the episode.

Berkeley Equivalent: Anywhere, “OOOUUU” is a classic.

“Truth” – Kamasi Washington

Season 2, Episode 9: #goalz

Scene: Attempting to break the record of consecutive hours dancing, a daring and courageous woman looks to The Guy to help her in the last few hours. In the faint background, we hear the genius that is Kamasi Washington’s “Truth,” a song that relies on intensifying buildups and breakdowns, each tiny little sound of the song pieced together like a Roman mosaic. The Guy, the only fan there, dances and smokes with the fearless woman, as she randomly decrees “I’m not afraid of death.” In the background, we hear the gospels of Kamasi’s neo-soul, neo-jazz afrofuturist masterpiece. The song begins to come down from its glorious mountaintop, and the credit scene captures the return of the dancer’s fanbase, as they lift her up in the air.

Berkeley Equivalent: This has got to be the song for the botanical gardens. Start in the Mediterranean section and make your way down to the rainy zone of Japan. The changing ecosystems, their weather and their colors, will probably adapt to the song, or vice versa.  

“Nantucket Island” – Willie Wright

Season 2, Episode 10: Steve

Scene: Perhaps one of the more serene and cosmically happy scenes in High Maintenance, Willie Wright’s beachy soulful, groovy ode to Nantucket Island plays while onlookers in Central Park prepare for the once-in a-century solar eclipse. Couples attempt to capture pure love while others cover their faces with oversized cardboard boxes — all of them essentially performing the same activity nonetheless, recommitting us (after a long evocative and highly emotive season) to the High Maintenance mantra: we are all people, we all endure, and we all connect. Little spots of color dot the grass, dogs prance along wiggling their tails, and The Guy bikes through all of it (per usual).

Berkeley Equivalent: A sunny day on the glade. Everyone is there. On 4/20, blast “Nantucket Island.” Embrace the words of everyone. Take in the colors.

SEASON 3

“Smoke Big Factory” – The Guess Who

Season 3, Episode 1: M.A.S.H

Scene: Nudity. Personification of sound and rhythm (the spiraling fan, the footsteps of the man, the swaying of his skin). The High Maintenance noir-like tension. What more can you ask for from this scene? Oh, a perfect song. An old man, later deemed “Baba,” pours hot water into his bathtub, with “Smoke Big Factory” weaving in and out of existence. The man sits in his bathtub and elegantly smokes his roach with a gold roach-holder. A purely yellow, Pauline-like light illuminates off the tiles of the bathroom. The man takes a puff, coughs, grasps his hand to his chest, and says “far out.” You be the judge of what happens next. “Smoke Big Factory” becomes louder as the title shot arrives.  

Berkeley Equivalent: That long walk home after a night at the library. Passing by Sather Gate, the red blinking light at the cross-section of Bancroft and Telegraph becomes clear. The soft-melodic tune, the Southern rock harmonization, and the lax drum fills will help you get home.

“All Your Love” – Jacob Okawa

Season 3, Episode 1: M.A.S.H

Scene: Seeking a getaway in upstate New York, The Guy drives his R.V. peacefully through roads inlaid in dense forestry. “All Your Love,” an indie-pop song, plays along with the running of the pavement. Lusting for some form of love, some form of identity, this song is perfect for The Guy’s current state of mind.

Berkeley Equivalent: This is a great song to walk along the grassy field that sits next to BAMPFA, especially when you can smell the eucalyptus. There’s a roundness and strange hilliness to that area of campus, totally echoed in the architecture of the BAMPFA building, that seems to be found in Okawa’s tune.

“A Moment” – Jerry Paper

Season 3, Episode 2: Craig

Scene: Marty sleeps while drawing blood from a patient. The lady, furious, wakes him up, and he frantically apologizes. As he returns to the conversation they were having, Jerry Paper’s bouncy melody relieves the scene of its tension and, once again, we find ourselves watching the wheels of a bike groove to the beat of the song. Life is good for Marty — he’s biking, hollering at people on the street, and wearing a smile….or so it seems.

Berkeley Equivalent: Walking to school in the morning, I find this song to be my guide through the passage from Wurster to the left side of the music building. There’s a cylindrical tree surrounded by a circle of dirt, and a circle of grass that all seems to capture the repetitiveness and playful structure of Jerry Paper’s “A Moment.”

“Trop Tard” – Munya

Season 3, Episode 2: Craig

Scene: Falling into the banal routines of her everyday life, Darby changes the script, and decides to show her boob to a lot of people, including The Guy, Craigslist buyers, and eventually the entirety of NYC. All the while, “Trop Tard,” a surfy and semi-surrealist synth song plays, perfectly synching with the phallic symbols, the mundane moments of a work day, and the psychologically-fused close-ups of Darby.

Berkeley Equivalent: Elmwood. 100%.

“Glow Worm Cha-Cha-Cha” – Jackie Davis

Season 3, Episode 6: Fingerbutt

Scene: Gene, a depressed veterinarian, decides to take shrooms at work. He becomes a whole new man but also a pretty bad veterinarian, often playing with the dogs instead of treating them. Nonetheless, we can see that he seems happier. “Glow Worm Cha-Cha-Cha”, a Bossa-Nova-like beat with eccentric bongos and playful organ melodies, accompanies the veterinarian as he touches the shell of a turtle, throws out treats to dogs, and tells a rabbit, “you should have taken a microdose…”

Berkeley Equivalent: Take a break from studying at VLSP. Go ahead and turn this amusing beat up and look into the eyes of a dinosaur fossil.

“Saana” – Ebo Taylor

Season 3, Episode 7: Dongle

Scene: Sophia, who seems like a roller skate prodigy, cops an orange soda at the local store, and skates her way through the streets of New York. Her unfiltered innocence is juxtaposed by The Guy being stuck in traffic. Again, we hear great sound editing as the song shuffles in volume.

Berkeley Equivalent: Take this afrofunk tune with you to Safeway. Going to the market is already fun. But go down the juice aisle playing this jam, you’ll have an even better time.

I hope this makes your walk a bit nicer. See the fun in simplicity if you can. Here’s a playlist of a lot more HM songs. 

Article by Julius Miller