{"id":11704,"date":"2022-09-21T09:16:28","date_gmt":"2022-09-21T08:16:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/?p=11704"},"modified":"2022-09-21T09:20:36","modified_gmt":"2022-09-21T08:20:36","slug":"julien-baker-starting-out-small-getting-bigger","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/index.php\/2022\/09\/21\/julien-baker-starting-out-small-getting-bigger\/","title":{"rendered":"Julien Baker<\/strong>         STARTING OUT SMALL; GETTING BIGGER.<\/strong>"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Julien Baker<\/strong>        <\/p>\n\n\n\n

STARTING OUT SMALL; GETTING BIGGER.<\/strong> Norman Warwick learns about her from a trusted source.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It is some while ago now that I had an e mail exchange with Sidetracks And Detours reader, and fount of all knowledge Americana, Peter Pearson about what I felt was a dirth of female singer writers on the scene. Where is the next generation who will take on the baton from the likes of Katy Moffatt, Nanci Griffith and Gretchen Peters I asked Peter in near-desperation. The list he sent me of new writers he was excited about was long enough to make me realise there were too many people I had overlooked or, in some cases, even been aware oof whom I had never been aware, and I realised I was goping to need more storage space for my playlists.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In covering such a breadth of music here at Sidetracks And Detoruurs, as well as all the other arts forms and events we try to keep reader informed of, we sometimes find an artist has slipped through our net. However diligent readers like Peter Pearson, and excellent writers at the professionally resourced sites like Geoffrey Himes at Paste on-line bang sign-posts into the ground pointing to any sidetracks & detours we haven\u00b4t taken.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Geoffrey Himes  opened a recent piece of his in Paste On Line with an acute observation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00b4When songwriters come up with new material\u00b4,<\/em> he said, \u00b4we\u2019re used to experiencing the songs twice: first as studio recordings (audio and\/or video) and then as live performances. But in addition to everything else, the pandemic disrupted this pattern and often left us hanging, waiting for the second shoe to drop.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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So it was that Julien Baker could release one of the year\u2019s <\/em>best albums<\/em><\/a>, <\/em>Little Oblivions<\/em><\/a>, in February and not do a proper tour for more than six months. <\/em>That tour<\/em><\/a> finally begins this weekend, September 3-5, with shows in Alabama and Georgia (though the Bonnaroo Festival, where she\u2019d been set to perform Sunday, was canceled<\/a> due to flooding this week). Baker did do a handful of pop-up shows in her current hometown of Nashville last spring, and she did appear at the <\/em>Newport Folk Festival<\/em><\/a> on July 28.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sidetracks And detours disseminated some reports a couple of weeks ago of what sounded like a very successful festival, and readers wanting an overview can still find our posts of Newport Folk-On Festival, and Newport Where Dylan Plugged In filed in our music archives.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mr. Himes claimed that the Newport set by Julien Baker was revelatory, \u00b4for it allowed the singer to present her songs in an unplugged format where every lyric subtlety and every melodic nuance could be clearly heard. And it allowed Baker, sitting in a plastic folding chair, her dark red hair parted in the middle and flowing over her gray T-shirt, to banter informally with the audience.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Woody Guthrie famously had a bumper sticker on his acoustic guitar that read, \u201cThis Machine Kills Fascists.\u201d On hers, Baker had little white stickers that spelled out, \u201cQueer Joy.\u201d At Newport, she explained the motto as she introduced the song \u201cRejoice\u201d: \u201cI put \u2018Queer Joy\u2019 on both my instruments, because people kept saying my songs were sad. But I\u2019m really joyful and happy about a future where queerness is just a part of life.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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LONDON, ENGLAND – SEPTEMBER 29: Julien Baker performs at O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire on September 29, 2018 in London, England. (Photo by Robin Little\/Redferns)<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

She then played that song from her 2015 debut album,\u00a0Sprained Ankle, with strong but patient chords, and a voice that started in the trembling whisper of a confided secret and climaxed in a bellowed declaration. The lyrics began with a bleak description of homeless teenagers sleeping on a bench or in a plastic bag near the train tracks, wondering what\u2019s worse: the daze of addiction or the shakes of withdrawal. But as her vocal gained power, the song\u2019s attitude shifted, and soon she was addressing a deity directly, arguing that her complaints are a kind of prayer, that knowing those prayers are heard is reason to \u201crejoice.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Geoffrey now recognises this as a familiar tactic by Baker:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00b4She often moves back and forth between private thoughts and public testifying, between a depressing present and a better future, between despair and hope, between quiet music and loud.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a trope I recognize in my music,\u201d<\/em><\/strong> she says over the phone from her home in East Nashville. \u201cI start out small and then get big and then turn small again. Maybe I have to have moments of being introspective and withdrawn to justify a noisy song like \u2018Hardline.\u2019 That\u2019s the kind of song I grew up with, but there\u2019s a part of me that wants balance. I usually performed solo during the first two records, so I had limited instrumentation. But on the crescendo parts, sometimes people would sing with me, and that felt sort of like camaraderie.\u201d<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Himes reminds readers that, at Newport, Baker presented four songs by herself, then brought out Mariah Schneider, the other vocalist and guitarist on Little Oblivions, for five songs before finishing up by herself. Baker even played banjo on three tunes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m a hobby banjo player,\u201d<\/em><\/strong> she told the crowd<\/em>. \u201cI\u2019m trying to reconnect to my Appalachian roots, so I thought I\u2019d bring it to the Newport Folk Festival. But I forgot there\u2019d be some really good banjo players here.\u201d<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Paste reported noted this as the kind of self-deprecating humour that lightened the darkness of so many of the songs and restored the balance she\u2019s been seeking. \u00b4There was humour in the way she conflated drugs and religion on Faith Healer, another new song she sang at Newport. When she conversationally sang, \u201cI miss the high, how it dulled the terror and the beauty,\u201d it wasn\u2019t clear if the intoxication came from whiskey or the Bible\u2014or if it even mattered. After all, is the faith healer all that different from the snake oil dealer?\u00b4<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe intention of Faith Healer,\u2019<\/em><\/strong> she confirms<\/em>, \u00b4was to write about intoxicants from the point of view of a sober person who\u2019s started to use again and recognizing the similarities with religious experience. Substances are neurological and psychological, and religion can become a psychological impediment, which can become neurological. Both can be fun and provide you with a lot of comfort, but if they\u2019re not used wisely they can quickly become destructive. I don\u2019t know how to balance that, but I\u2019m trying.\u201d<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The twin themes of drinking and religion are identified by Himes as the thread that runs through Little Oblivions, and give the album its title.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00b4The record opens with churchy organ, followed by Baker\u2019s admission that she \u201cblacked out on a weekday\u2014is there something I\u2019m trying to avoid?\u201d When the organ is replaced by brittle, indie-rock guitar, she sings louder: \u201cI\u2019ll split the difference between medicine and poison, take what I can get away with.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

She didn\u2019t perform Hardline at Newport, but she did sing the album\u2019s next and scariest song, Heatwave, which imagines what it would be like to put \u201cOrion\u2019s belt around my neck and kick the chair out.\u201d The temptation to suicide is made all the more alluring by a spooky, electric-guitar figure on the record; onstage, it was normalized by the back-and-forth between Baker\u2019s banjo and Schneider\u2019s acoustic guitar.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

They also skipped Relative Fiction, which continues the new album\u2019s suicide theme with the couplet, \u201cYou could see me dangling, glow like a cherry.\u201d And yet this song uses its loping rhythm and lazy, catchy guitar figure to reach some hope at the end. \u201cI don\u2019t need a savior,\u201d she declares. \u201cI need you to take me home.\u201d Whether the savior is Jesus or a would-be, white-knight lover, the narrator has an epiphany: She can no longer live up to impossible standards of salvation and damnation. She\u2019s \u201cfinished being good\u201d; now she can just be OK.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00b4Relative Fiction is very bleak\u00b4,<\/em><\/strong> Baker admits, \u00b4but it\u2019s very bouncy and uplifting musically. There\u2019s a sadness when you discover your life\u2019s not going to be what you thought it was going to be, but there\u2019s something healthy about that. I don\u2019t want to say that hope is foolish, but it can be na\u00efve. I was reading this thing about how nihilism and romanticism can both paralyze you from action. Reasonable hope is believing that human beings are resilient and we\u2019re capable of overcoming challenges<\/strong>\u00b4.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ever the questioner, Geoffrey asked her for an example of reasonable hope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00b4You can think\u00b4, <\/em><\/strong>she replies, \u2018I\u2019m not going to vote because it\u2019s already decided.\u2019 Or you can think, \u2018I\u2019m not going to vote because it\u2019s all going to work out in the end.\u2019 Both thoughts stop you from acting. Do I think there\u2019s going to be a president who will eliminate poverty in a single four-year term? No, but voting, praying, recycling are all things I still do, even if people say they don\u2019t matter. Because you have to practice hope to make it real\u00b4.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00b4The path she takes from despair to hope in Relative Fiction is travelled by her savvy use of juxtapositions and dynamics in her arrangements. The drum loop is harsh and industrial, but the guitar parts are relaxed and friendly. When the loop disappears, she can sing quietly and intimately. When the loop returns with a swooshing synth in tow, she raises her voice to make sure she\u2019s heard over \u201cthe drunks at the bar [who] talk over the band.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00b4On this record,\u201d <\/em><\/strong>she argues, \u00b4when a song reaches a musical climax, I feel like there\u2019s some anger in it, like shouting out of desperation, allowing myself to get loud. That is how I try to write songs, with an audience in mind, to insinuate some positive moral to the suffering described in the song. On this record, it felt better to just document the suffering without feeling beholden to the audience to turn it into an anthem of recovery. The blessing and the curse at the same time sounds trite, but it allowed me to step back from the audience and just speak for myself\u00b4.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00b4But at the core of Little Oblivions\u00b4,<\/em>  her interviewer suggests, \u00b4is her inventive use of words, which describe not only the walls closing in on her, but also create the door to get out. It\u2019s as if she wrote her way out of a very dark place. As she sings in Relative Fiction, \u201cI try to express \/ I can\u2019t understand \/ I beat at the keys \/ I bloody my hands \/ till you hear me.\u201d She had felt lost when exhaustion and then the pandemic pulled her off the treadmill of touring, but writing about it helped\u00b4.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00b4I was doing 250 shows a year for four years\u00b4,<\/em><\/strong> Baker explains,<\/em> \u00b4and I didn\u2019t know who I was when the wheels slowed down. I\u2019m a musician who writes songs, and suddenly it became my profession. My friends and the people I work with encouraged me to take some time off and take care of myself. I didn\u2019t know how to take care of myself. I was in an unstable place; I wasn\u2019t healthy enough to continue to keep touring.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I thought I wasn\u2019t sure I\u2019d want to keep touring and maybe I\u2019d need a degree for another job. So I went back to school I was being asked in interviews at age 20 to talk about queerness and God, two enormous topics. It was nice to just learn and inform myself. Being a student and not a performer helped me reconnect to why I became a performer in the first place. When it wasn\u2019t my job and I was just writing songs, I was making songs because it was fun; it made my soul feel good. It was a safe place to put my feelings\u00b4.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00b4Once she decided to unblinkingly examine her fall from sobriety\u00b4, <\/em>Mr. Himes tells us, \u00b4and her doubts about religion and her career, she began to find strength in metaphors and the economical phrases that have always been her trademark. On Cry Wolf, she condenses a whole season of inebriation as one particularly disastrous New Year\u2019s Eve party. On the first morning of January, she awakes feeling as if someone has shoved a charcoal briquet down her throat, as if everything she was sure of has floated out the window like last night\u2019s cigarette smoke.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

On Highlight Reel, she describes herself as \u201cpassed out in the back of the cab,\u201d unsure if the cab has driven off a bridge into the river or if it just seems that way. On Favour, the narrator\u2019s sitting on the hood of a car, drunk and bored in a parking lot, when her friend saves a moth caught in the grill of a truck. The narrator asks why it\u2019s easier to be tender \u201cwith anything less than human.\u201d The sentences are elliptical; the rhymes are more suggestive than perfect; the scraps of dialogue and description dare the listener to fill in the gaps.\u00b4<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00b4I\u2019ve always liked words\u00b4, <\/em><\/strong>Baker confesses. \u201cI never enjoyed math and science. I like writing and reading, learning how to use language in a way that\u2019s beautiful. Poetry allows you to step outside the boundaries of academic language or everyday language. That was always attractive to me. Doing close readings of poems in college made me a more intentional songwriter and listener. I consider listening to music all the time as part of my job. I always ask questions: \u2018Why did they use this language? Why did they use this chord?\u00b4<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The journalist believes that one of the best songs on the new album is named after its anchoring chord: Song in E.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00b4In the studio, it was a piano ballad with a classic Tin Pan Alley melody to match, even as the lyrics describe the bottommost depths of her depression. At Newport, she sang it with just her acoustic guitar, but the tune was just as captivating and her claim that she\u2019s not fishing for pity just as insistent. Maybe she\u2019s addressing a girlfriend; maybe she\u2019s addressing a Supreme Being, but her message is the same: \u201cGive me no sympathy \/ It\u2019s the mercy I can\u2019t take.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another widely respected music journalist, Mark Hogan, writing at the on-line site, Pitchfork, suggests Julien Baker turns being way too hard on yourself into its own genre. The Tennessee singer-songwriter and producer\u2019s debut album, 2015\u2019s Sprained Ankle<\/em><\/a>, delivered gut-wrenching tales of injury and substance abuse while setting Baker\u2019s prayerful voice over little more than twinkling acoustic guitar and a smattering of piano, with a title track that echoed Baker\u2019s real-life experience of running herself ragged<\/a>. Her follow-up (and Matador debut), 2017\u2019s Turn Out the Lights<\/em><\/a>, added woodwinds, strings, and other flourishes, but at its emotional core<\/a> was a lone character convincing herself just \u201cnot to miss any more appointments.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With Baker\u2019s third album, Little Oblivions<\/em>, her self-lacerating storytelling gets a more expansive canvas. Maybe the blockbuster success of Olivia Rodrigo\u2019s \u201cdrivers license<\/a>\u201d has turned the emotionally specific introspection of young women into pop\u2019s latest zeitgeist<\/a>, but Baker has been doing this all along. The 25-year-old has become a de facto generational spokesperson who grew up gay, Christian, and hardcore in the American South and survived teenage addiction. Her profile has enjoyed an extra boost lately thanks to the triumph of 2018\u2019s self-titled EP<\/a> by boygenius<\/a>, her supergroup with Lucy Dacus<\/a> and Phoebe Bridgers<\/a>. Over the past several months, in<\/a> a<\/a> grueling<\/a> gauntlet<\/a> of<\/a> fascinating<\/a> interviews<\/a>, Baker has talked openly about the relapse and heartbreak that inform her new record, where she hones her craft during a notoriously difficult time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u00b4On this new record\u00b4, <\/em><\/strong>Baker says<\/em>, \u00b4there\u2019s a lot of self-indictment. When I\u2019m singing that way, it could sound like I\u2019m seeking approbation, but I\u2019m not. It\u2019s more exhausting to try to deceive myself or to manipulate others into thinking what\u2019s not true than to admit I have flaws. This is true in my personal relationships too. Sometimes I listen to my older songs, and I say, \u2018Listen to you, 18-year-old Julien, poor you. You have problems with your parents or someone you like doesn\u2019t like you, like you\u2019re the first one that ever happened to.\u2019 I laugh sometimes, because that makes it bearable\u00b4.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Although Baker still plays nearly every instrument herself, the biggest change on Little Oblivions<\/em> is a full-band sound. The shift is most jarring on opener \u201cHardline,\u201d where organ-like whorls are upended by newfound rumbling, but it\u2019s restrained in a way that softens the sting of a song that begins with Baker\u2019s narrator \u201cblacked out on a weekday\u201d and ends with her asking, \u201cWhat if it\u2019s all black, baby, all the time?\u201d The jaunty banjo that opens the next track, \u201cHeatwave,\u201d is a much-needed breather before Baker darkly vows, \u201cI\u2019ll wrap Orion\u2019s belt around my neck and kick the chair out.\u201d Particularly given all the mannered singer-songwriters springing out of Indieville in recent years, the jolt of distorted guitar on \u201cRingside\u201d feels as welcome as the central image is unsettling: \u201cBeat myself till I\u2019m bloody, and I\u2019ll give you a ringside seat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A more significant and nuanced development is Baker\u2019s growth as a songwriter and vocalist, particularly noticeable on the piano ballads. Where her melodies once seemed more like vehicles for her words, fine-tuned for emo singalong refrains, on \u201cCrying Wolf\u201d she soars with a dignified aplomb fit for an Oscar contender\u2019s closing credits\u2014never mind that it starts out with another unnerving line: \u201cDay-one chip on your dresser, get loaded at your house.\u201d The album\u2019s musical peak and emotional nadir is another slow, keyboard-based track, \u201cSong in E,\u201d which throws in a fancy chord or two as Baker\u2019s narrator fesses up to having only herself to blame for her drinking, then twists the dagger into herself even further: \u201cIt\u2019s the mercy I can\u2019t take.\u201d Over and over again on Little Oblivions<\/em>, the paradox is that Baker\u2019s craft is most realized when her lyrics are most disturbing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As skilled as Baker is at this tasteful bleakness, it\u2019s still not easy listening. Reunited with boygenius bandmates Dacus and Bridgers, who lend swooning vocal harmonies to \u201cFavor,\u201d she implores, \u201cWhat right had you not to let me die?\u201d There\u2019s a huge, thrumming chorus on \u201cRelative Fiction,\u201d but it\u2019s not the feel-good sort (\u201cI don\u2019t need a savior\/I need you to take me home,\u201d she insists). Baker\u2019s trauma may not be yours, but if you can recognize a piece of yourself in her soul-searching and despair, Little Oblivions<\/em> can be surreptitiously devastating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Since Sprained Ankle<\/em>, when a 19-year-old Baker sang, \u201cWish I could write songs about anything other than death,\u201d her work has had an interesting meta quality. Here that\u2019s manifested on \u201cFaith Healer,\u201d a bristling radio-rock anthem that I hear as commenting on the seductiveness of not only drugs, religion, and sex (little oblivions<\/a>, indeed!), but also the Total Entertainment Forever that is today\u2019s opiate of the masses. Artists are unfairly held up as saviors, especially in an always-on social media world fixated on portrayals of authenticity. Turn Out the Lights<\/em> ended with Baker proclaiming no difference between demons and saints. Little Oblivions<\/em> closes, on the trudging \u201cZiptie,\u201d with an even more bracing dose of iconoclasm: \u201cGood God, when\u2019re you gonna call it off\/Climb down off the cross and change your mind?\u201d Her \u201cAll right, then, I\u2019ll go to hell\u201d becomes her \u201cI don\u2019t believe in Beatles<\/a>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Baker excels at turning self-mortification into art, but it\u2019s her prerogative as an artist not to have to keep doing it in perpetuity. I\u2019m reminded of someone like Perfume Genius<\/a>, whose early lo-fi flagellations morphed into glossy art-pop fantasias. As tempting as it is to imagine Baker fully unleashing in one direction or another, the studiously crafted messiness captured here still feels like a compelling next step. Although Little Oblivions<\/em> describes mainly unhealthy forms of escape, it sounds like something Baker might be embarrassed to admit: true faith in herself..<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, thanks again to my tyrusted adviser, Peter Pearson and to excellent writers like Geoffrey Himes and Mark Hogan for serving as our road map as we follow our art down sidetracks & detours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The prime sources for this article were found in a work  by Geoffrey Himes at Paste on-line and by martk Hogan at Pitchfork, another excellent on-line site. Check out these  on-line magazines for scores of similar thought-provoking work.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In our occasional re-postings Sidetracks And Detours are confident that we are not only sharing with our readers excellent articles written by experts but that we are also pointing to informed and informative sites readers will re-visit time and again. Of course, we feel sure our readers will also return to our daily not-for-profit blog knowing that we seek to provide core original material whilst sometimes spotlighting the best pieces from elsewhere, as we engage with new genres and practitioners along all the sidetracks & detours we take.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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This article was collated by Norman Warwick, (right) a weekly columnist with Lanzarote Information and owner and editor of this daily blog at Sidetracks And Detours.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Norman has also been a long serving broadcaster, co-presenting the weekly all across the arts programme on Crescent Community Radio for many years with Steve Bewick, and his own show on Sherwood Community Radio. He has been a regular guest on BBC Radio Manchester, BBC Radio Lancashire, BBC Radio Merseyside and BBC Radio Four.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

As a published author and poet Norman was a founder member of Lendanear Music, with Colin Lever and Just Poets with Pam McKee, Touchstones Creative Writing Group (for which he was creative writing facilitator for a number of years) with Val Chadwick and all across the arts with Robin Parker.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

From Monday to Friday,<\/em><\/strong> you will find a daily post here at Sidetracks And Detours and, should you be looking for good reading, over the weekend you can visit our massive but easy to navigate archives of over 500 articles.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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e mail logo <\/em><\/strong>The purpose of this daily not-for-profit blog is to deliver news, previews, interviews and reviews from all across the arts to die-hard fans and non- traditional audiences around the world. We are therefore always delighted to receive your own articles here at Sidetracks And Detours. So if you have a favourite artist, event, or venue that you would like to tell us more about just drop a Word document attachment to me at <\/em><\/strong>normanwarwick55@gmail.com<\/em><\/strong><\/a> with a couple of appropriate photographs in a zip folder if you wish. Being a not-for-profit organisation we unfortunately cannot pay you but we will always fully attribute any pieces we publish. You therefore might also. like to include a brief autobiography and photograph of yourself in your submission.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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sheku kanneh mason newsletter<\/p>\n\n\n\n

songfacts                                           en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/SongFacts<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A more significant and nuanced development is Baker\u2019s growth as a songwriter and vocalist, particularly noticeable on the piano ballads Mark Hogan, Pitchfork<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":11715,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[45],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11704","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-music"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11704","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11704"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11704\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11718,"href":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11704\/revisions\/11718"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/11715"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11704"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11704"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/aata.dev\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11704"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}