The Night I Found Olive Klug (or Maybe They Found Me)
TikTok Live is my favorite fever dream. At any given hour, you can find a cat roaming the streets somewhere in Korea, a bro trying to land a ping pong trick shot, a woman dipping glittery tumblers in resin, factory workers running machines, and someone singing karaoke—usually in front of a wood-paneled wall.
One insomniac night, I took a break from emotionally unraveling to scroll for something bizarre and/or funny to distract me from the general state of my life. That’s when I stumbled into Olive Klug’s live set—and I was immediately a fan.
It felt like hearing Brandi Carlile for the first time, back when I worked at RadioShack in college and had to play the ShackTV DVD on a loop. I knew instantly Brandi’s music was going to be a monumental part of my life. I went to shows with just a few hundred people and stood in the front row, basking in that voice.
That’s what hearing Olive felt like. Something about the voice, the vibe…I was an immediate fan. As it happens, they had a show in Houston the following week. It felt like kismet, so before the live was even over, I bought tickets. I ended up sick and couldn’t go (my immune system is under constant attack and the coughs and sneezes of teenagers took her out that week). But honestly, that night? That moment? That was the show I needed.
Their song Self Help became my self-love anthem. It’s a quiet banger—no big build, just a steady reminder that every version of me brought me here. That surviving counts. That thriving doesn’t have to be loud.
This year’s been heavy—personally, professionally, politically. Joy and safety don’t always coexist. But Olive’s music has been a soft place to land. Like Joni Mitchell reincarnated through a Gen Z lens. Like a voice that says, “Hey. You’re not alone.”
At the very end of that TikTok Live, I heard Olive say something about a “queer teacher in Texas” and thought I was having some kind of episodee. Like, how does this person know who I am? Is this real? Is this a psychic reading as well? Turns out they were recommending a series on Hulu with Brian Jordan Alvarez. Although I was slightly bummed they weren’t psychic (I love a good reading), I thought it was an interesting little wink from the universe. This gay public school teacher is gonna take it as one anyhow.
Here’s their Spotify. You’re welcome.
I am proud of the version of me that exists right this moment—because this version is handling the hard things better than anyone imagined. There’s a verse in the song that says, “who I’ll be three years from now will have some shit to say to me.” I know that’s true, and I cannot wait to meet that version of myself—the one I’ve been finding my way to all these years.
Because I’m starting to realize that the soft place I’ve been searching for…it’s me.
