Quitter’s Playlist: The Beths “Expert in a Dying Field”

A few months ago, I made the determination that I had to quit the job I had held for 8 years, despite having no new job to go to.

How, why, and under what circumstances I came to this conclusion — which was met mostly with support, encouragement and a smattering of envy from people in my life, and less skepticism about my prospects than you might think — is a long, complicated story about the inherent entanglement between one’s career trajectory and sense of personal satisfaction with life that I haven’t really come here to discuss today (maybe another time.)

But like so many things in my life, it came back to music.

In late February 2025, as I was contemplating my prospects, I put a simple post on my favored social media asking everyone what were some “good bands.”

Hey everyone what are some good bands

— Egregious Philbin (@scottowilliams.bsky.social) 2025-03-12T19:45:21.941Z

I am not sure what kind of response, if any, I was expecting. I have a paltry 111 followers, most of whom aren’t really paying attention to anything I’m saying. An average post of mine gets about 0.02 likes. But it was one of those things I figured it would be fun to see how someone interpreted, if at all. “what are some good bands” could mean “what is your favourite band” or “what is a good band I haven’t heard of” or “what are you listening to right now.” I had one of those moments where I was very aware that, although music was very important to me in my 20’s, I was now approaching 38 and hadn’t refreshed my tastes very much, and maybe someone would prompt me to freshen that up.

Surprisingly, I did get a response from my friend James, who quickly responded, without elaboration, “The Beths.” Although he and I disagree on one or two fine points of popular music (mostly acts I like that he does not) he’s someone I can trust that if he says something is good, it probably is. I immediately went to my streamer of choice to check the top tunes of this New Zealand band, where I discovered a song called “Expert in a Dying Field,” which seemed to be written specifically for me at that time.

The song is a glistening piece of power pop gold, the kind of thing that never really hits the charts but is always fashionable to a certain segment of the populace. Soft-focus but hard-edged, rollicking, hooky, and sincere.

It’s a breakup song, one of the best and most poignant I’ve ever heard, about what it feels like to spend a period of time “learning” someone, learning to be with them, and then having to pack away that knowledge once your time together is over. Where do the feelings go? Where does that knowledge go? You spent years learning someone’s emotional currency, their habits, their food preferences, how many times in the night they get up to go to the bathroom, what noises they make when they’re sick, and now it’s just… not worth anything? How do you process that? I have never been through a breakup like that, but having been in a committed relationship for a decade and counting I am very aware of the first part of the premise, and moreover I had never heard that point expressed so vividly in a song. So it was already pretty remarkable.

“Can we erase our history, is it as easy as this? … I can close the door on us, but the room still exists …“

The music motors along until the instrumentation virtually drops out from under Elizabeth Stokes’ vocals to give the full stage to the chorus:

“How does it feel, to be an expert in a dying field? And how do you know it’s over when you can’t let go? / Can’t let go, can’t rewind, love is learned over time, ’til you’re an expert in a dying field.”

And on and on until the song roars to an anthemic climax, at which point you don’t know whether the song is lamenting, celebrating, or a little of both, the end of this arrangement.

Naturally, the song takes the workplace, or academia as it were, as a metaphor for a relationship. But the funny thing about metaphors is that sometimes you do just take them at face value. I wouldn’t say that the work I was doing was in any way a “dying field,” but it was becoming less relevant to me. Over most of a decade, I had amassed a huge amount of knowledge and ability that I was going to have to close the door on if I wanted to move forward with my life. I had poured a lot of time and energy into becoming not just capable but, dare I say, good at a job that, under the right circumstances, I had quite enjoyed. It feels gratifying to be an expert in something (or someone) and bittersweet when that expertise becomes in some way defunct.

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How do you know it’s over when you can’t let go?

The decision to leave something I was comfortable and good at doing was not easy, but I couldn’t convince myself it was wrong to do so. I listened to the song on repeat, literally over and over again, its final strains giving way to its opening rev of guitars something like 30 times during a single work week as I tilted the idea around in my head, that the song described my exact position. How this song came to me, from someone who didn’t know what I was going through, at the exact time I needed it, is some kind of sorcery.

Later I made it the centerpiece of an entire playlist of songs intended to capture my feelings about leaving a job that had serviced me well for many years.

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Music, these little three-minute bites of someone else’s feelings, is such a magical thing. As I said earlier, it used to matter a great deal to me, because I used to sell it as well as write about it. It never stopped mattering of course, but only in the way it matters to everyone as they use it to score their workdays, workouts, dog walks, car rides, romantic times, etc.

As of right now, this is the only blog post on scottowilliams dot com. I’ve torched the rest of the archives — including some intermittently decent writing — to get a fresh start and try to put my energy somewhere useful while I sort out what the next chapter of my life looks like. I want to write a little bit about music, a little bit about life, a little bit about whatever other “media” I happen to consume. Sometimes the material is not going to be very focused. Sometimes it’s not going to be very good (I should flip that and suggest that maybe, sometimes, the posts will be good) but instead of coming back to it once or twice a year, I would like to feel like I need to come here once per week or so, and I’d like you to be along for the ride check in now and again when it suits you.

Scotto isn’t employed! That was his choice and he fully understands if you would rather put your money elsewhere. But if you like what you see, consider leaving some money in the tip jar at Ko-Fi.