I hesitated on this one because it’s a bit louder and less traditionally beautiful than most of the things I normally post.
I sat and thought and put my hand thoughtfully to my chin. “Should I post it?” I asked myself.
But then I remembered that the only rules here are that 1) it has to be a band I haven’t featured before, and 2) it has to be a song that I find beautiful and 3) I have to be able to justify it. “Oh yeah,” I said. When I remembered that 4) the only person enforcing the rules is me, the deal was sealed.
So here’s my justification, a bit lengthier than usual:
What makes this a beautiful song:
1. It might be the best anthem to apathy to be released since the 1990s, a decade usually regarded as the apex of apathy. After a full minute of instrumental buildup and a sprawling sonic landscape, the listener might be expecting something equally expansive when the lyrics finally enter, but instead we get, “Come now, give me your hand / And I’ll show you incredibly bland.”
Things continue in this vein with similarly wonderful lines like, “Wanna start a cult but got left on read / Considered occupying but I love my bed,” and “Daydream to pass the time / Was there even anything on my mind?”
And what fan of 90s-era self-referential humour wouldn’t love the line, “gonna name my band all in lower case” – coming, of course, from the lead singer of a band named all in lower case?
2. But the best apathetic songwriters know that apathy without empathy is empty. Throughout the song, other lyrics imply a deep insecurity and helplessness. The syncopated first chorus crescendos into the line “Think I have a hunch things are gonna change for good…” only for the music to drop out under the back-to-earth line of “things will be the same.” It’s hard not to feel for the person writing those words.
3. Lyrics aside, the music has an undeniable groove. The motivated percussion, the slithering distorted bass, the shimmering synths that hang out on the ethereal seventh degree of the scale…it makes for great driving music.
Which of course is the final ironic touch: a song called “Drive” that makes ideal driving music, but sung by a narrator who lacks drive.
Recommended listening activity:
Driving, but on cruise control and with one un-enthusiastic hand on the wheel.