Sunday Sessions: Incubus — Dig: The People Who Bring Us Back

Open the full Sunday Session — artwork, video and story ↗

There are records in my studio that I enjoy, and there are records that have become part of how I understand my life. Incubus’s Light Grenades sits proudly among the latter. If I were choosing the five soundtracks of my life, it would be one of them. “Dig” is a big reason why. I even have a “Dig” T-shirt in my collection. It’s a small detail, but it tells you how much this song has stayed with me.

The music draws you in. Then Brandon Boyd’s words give you a reason to stay. Listen closely and there is a question worth carrying into this part of life: who knows you well enough to recognize when you’ve lost your way—and who would you do the same for?

At 56, that question means more to me than it once did.

Brandon Boyd and the work inside the words

Boyd is Incubus’s frontman, and his voice gives “Dig” much of its emotional force. The song is a band creation, with songwriting credits shared by Boyd, Mike Einziger, Ben Kenney, Chris Kilmore and José Pasillas. But it is Boyd’s delivery of the words that makes me stop and pay attention.

In a 2013 interview with Jonathan Bautts, Boyd recalled working hard on the lyrics while the band worked through the arrangements. He also described discovering more of the song’s meaning after it was finished. I like that admission. A writer can make something with care and still come to understand it differently later.

Listeners do that too. We return to a record carrying experiences we didn’t have the first time. A song we once played in the car can become a conversation about a friendship, a marriage or the person we’re trying to become.

For me, Boyd’s performance holds both vulnerability and conviction. There is room to admit weakness without giving up on the person underneath it. That combination is what keeps bringing me back.

What I hear in “Dig”

I hear an acknowledgment that everyone carries weaknesses, and that pride can rise when we feel exposed. The song’s appeal is to someone who remembers us beyond that defensive version of ourselves. Its central image asks that person to uncover “the better part of me.”

That is my reading of the words, and it reaches me because I know how easily a difficult season can influence the way we treat people. Work becomes consuming. Disappointment makes us short with someone who didn’t cause it. We spend so much energy defending a decision that we stop considering whether it was a good one.

I’ve lived through challenges. I’ve also made ego moves. Some circumstances were difficult; some choices were mine. Getting older has made it more important to be honest about both.

What moves me about this song is the possibility of being known well enough that someone can recognize the change. They remember your generosity when you’re acting selfishly. They know your humor when you’ve become hard to reach. They can ask what’s happening because the relationship has enough history to hold an honest answer.

There is real value in having someone who remembers your best qualities—and cares enough to tell you when you’ve stopped living by them.

That care also asks something of us. We have to listen. We have to apologize when it’s needed and make choices that show we meant it. Being understood gives us an opportunity to grow; the responsibility for growing remains our own.

The people we need for the road ahead

When we talk about the journey to 60 and beyond, there is plenty to plan: work, retirement, health, money, where we want to live. Those decisions matter. So does the question of who will be part of the life we’re preparing for.

Some relationships have been with us for decades. Others are still taking shape. A spouse, a sibling, an old friend, someone we meet through a shared interest—each can know a different part of us. One remembers where we came from. Another understands the work we do. Another makes it easier to talk about something we’ve kept to ourselves.

As life changes, those connections need attention. The familiar conversations at work may become less frequent. Children build their own households. Friends move. We can care deeply about people and still let too much time pass between calls.

I want to be more deliberate about that. To make the call, accept an invitation and ask a second question after someone says they’re doing fine. To stay long enough to hear the answer. There are people I want beside me in the coming years, and I want my actions now to make that clear.

“Dig” gives me a way to think about that responsibility. Who would notice if I became withdrawn? Who could tell me I was letting pride get in the way? And when someone I love is having a difficult time, am I paying enough attention to notice?

My connection—and room for yours

For me, Angie is central to that feeling. She knows the ambitious, hopeful and stubborn parts of me, and she helps me stay grounded. I’m grateful for the way she brings my attention back to the life we’re sharing. The artwork on this page is a personal thank-you to her.

But your person may be different. You might hear this song and think of a friend who stayed close through a hard year, a brother who can speak plainly to you, or someone who helped you regain perspective when you needed it. You may also think of a relationship you want to give more time to.

That is what makes sharing music worthwhile. I can tell you where a song takes me, then leave space for it to take you somewhere of your own. You don’t need my history—or years of listening to Incubus—to find something here.

Give the video your attention

The animated video adds another way into the song. I’m drawn to the oversized heads, the interior worlds and the small figures within them. To my eye, those images suggest how much can be happening inside someone that the people around them cannot immediately see. That is a personal interpretation; you may read the animation differently.

Watch what happens as the music develops. Notice which images stay with you, and listen to the way Boyd delivers the words. Sometimes the animation gives a feeling a shape before we’ve found our own language for it.

My invitation this Sunday is simple: give “Dig” a few uninterrupted minutes. Listen to the words as closely as the music. Watch the whole video. Think about the person who comes to mind—and consider telling them why.

Then ask yourself what kind of presence you want to be in their life.

There is still a great deal ahead on the journey to 60 and beyond. I want to enjoy it with people I know, people I can count on and people who can count on me. This song helps me remember to give those relationships the attention they deserve.

Allen S. Robinson
Founder & Publisher | The Pacific44 Journal
The Journey to 60 and Beyond
LIVE WELL ◆ STAY CURIOUS ◆ KEEP MOVING

Music notes: song credits and lyrics · Brandon Boyd’s 2013 interview. The reflections above are Allen’s personal interpretation of the song and video.