30 by Bo Burnham Lyrics Meaning – A Poignant Dive into Millennial Angst
Lyrics
I used to ride my bike
I used to wake up with a smile
And go to bed at night with a dream, ahh
But now I’m turning thirty (No!)
I used to be the young one, got used to meeting people
Who weren’t used to meeting someone who was born in 1990
No way (Yeah, I was born in 1990)
Now I’m turning thirty
God, God damn it!
I’m (turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty)
Turning (turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty)
Thirty (turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty)
I’m turning thirty (turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty)
When he was twenty-seven, my granddad fought in Vietnam
When I was twenty-seven, I built a birdhouse with my mom
Oh, fuck, how am I thirty?
I used to make fun of the boomers, in retrospect, a bit too much
Now all these fucking zoomers are telling me that I’m out of touch
Oh yeah? Well, your fucking phones are poisoning your minds, okay?
So when you develop a dissociative mental disorder
In your late twenties, don’t come crawling back to m
I’m (turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty)
Turning (turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty)
Thirty (turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty)
I’m turning thirty (turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty, turning thirty)
And now my stupid friends are having stupid children
My stupid friends are having stupid children
My stupid friends are having stupid children
My stupid friends are having stupid children
And now my stupid friends are having stupid children
My stupid friends are having stupid children
My stupid friends are having stupid children
Stupid, fucking ugly, boring children
It’s 2020, and I’m thirty, I’ll do another ten
2030, I’ll be forty and kill myself then
Bo Burnham’s ’30’ is not simply a song; it’s an anthem for a generation straddling the abruptly marked line between youthful aspiration and sobering adulthood. With this track, from his self-released comedy special ‘Inside’, Burnham captures the essence of a moment that many try to express but few manage to encapsulate with such punchy and piercing humor.
Burnham, like a troubadour of modern-day disenchantment, vocalizes the angst of millennials with brutal honesty and wit, delivering lines that bite with their relatability. As a listener, you can’t help but ruefully nod at the absurd truths within ’30’, feeling both the communal pang of existential dread and the personal sting of time slipping through your fingers.
Unraveling the Angst in Aging
Bo Burnham’s ‘30’ strikes the core of millennial dread — the unsettling crossover from the breezy days of youth into the weight of being ‘thirty, flirty, and thriving’ minus the flirty and thriving. The lyrics juxtapose the carefree nature of childhood, symbolized by riding bikes and running miles, against the crescendo of the countdown to thirty – a number loaded with societal expectations of settled stability.
Burnham’s introspection is a nuanced tapestry of humor and melancholy, tapping into the collective disillusionment of a cohort caught between two worlds – one they were promised by optimistic predecessors and the ill-fitting reality they’ve inherited. As we dissect the lyrics, we find a portrait of Burnham at odds with an idealized past and bemused by the cult of adulthood.
Inescapable Contrasts: Boomers, Zoomers, and the In-Betweens
In ’30’, Burnham draws stark comparisons between generational milestones, masterfully highlighting the dramatic shift in life experiences without a single spared word. He wryly remarks on the discrepancies between his grandfather’s coming-of-age in Vietnam at 27 and his own achievement of building a birdhouse with his mom at the same age – a humble brag that accentuates a vastly different world.
The commentary extends to the social dynamics between generations as Bo acknowledges his previous mockery of ‘boomers’ and then grapples with being the target of ‘zoomers’ who declare him ‘out of touch’. This intergenerational tug-of-war is a clever nod to the song’s overarching themes of relevancy, identity, and the passage of time.
Decoding the Dread: The Hidden Meaning Behind Bo’s Chorus
The repetitive chant of ‘I’m turning thirty’ isn’t just a chorus; it’s the haunting echo of anxiety resounding through the minds of countless individuals approaching a milestone. It serves as a grim reminder of the relentless march of time and the pressure to measure up to the yardstick of societal success, all while enduring the mercurial judgement of those coming up behind.
Buried within the seeming simplicity of the recurring line lies the complex emotion of recognizing one’s own mortality and the fragility of life’s plans. Burnham encapsulates the dizzying cycle of introspection and self-critique that often accompanies significant birthdays, marking the passage from one era of life to the next.
A Swing at Procreation and the Evolution of Friendship
Taking a snide jab at the life-script, Burnham sings of his friends birthing ‘stupid, fucking ugly, boring children’, which, while harsh, captures the dissonance felt when peer priorities shift dramatically. It’s a lament for the loss of shared youth, reflecting the isolation that can come with friends moving into new life stages while you stand seemingly still.
The biting commentary is a far cry from envy; rather, it’s an observation of the bizarre ritual of adulthood, where one is expected to spawn offspring regardless of individual circumstance or desire. Burnham’s use of blunt language breaks through polite veneers, exposing the absurdity of following life’s conveyor belt without question.
Memorable Lines that Leave a Mark
Burnham’s lyrics sear themselves into the listener’s memory by encapsulating universal sentiments within a span of stanzas. One such memorable line, ‘When he was twenty-seven, my granddad fought in Vietnam. When I was twenty-seven, I built a birdhouse with my mom.’ This poignant reflection prompts listeners to measure their own accomplishments against historical benchmarks, often finding them trivial in comparison.
Another gut-punch comes with the closing lines projected into the future — ‘It’s 2020, and I’m thirty, I’ll do another ten. 2030, I’ll be forty and kill myself then’ — a jarring projection of life’s trajectory extracted with a morbid humor. It’s this stark honesty that forces a confrontation with personal achievements, societal expectations, and the self-imposed existential deadlines we all face.
