The HideAlls – I Don’t Play Nice
People, typically, have a pretty inflated sense of self-worth. And, no place is this more apparent than the way that we view the role of our species. There’s nearly nobody that you’re bound to meet that won’t try to convince you that humans were placed on this planet to rule and, ultimately, to fulfil whatever mysterious destiny they’ve been brought into the world for.
But what if all that we’re here to do is play some great guitar riffs (if we’re able to involve ourselves in these kinds of activities) and to play the role of the fool in some drama in which we’re merely the comedic distraction. How does all of that work together with our perceived role at the very centre of the Universe?
The HideAlls know who’s to blame for the natural disasters plaguing the world in recent years. It’s all of us, and on the boisterous garage-rock single “I Don’t Play Nice,” the band offers the dramatic monologue to Mother Nature herself. She’s here to let us know that she doesn’t mind. In fact, she hardly thinks we’re important at all. The HideAlls deliver the all-too-rare garage-rock eco-protest song.
Day Friend – Street Light
And then, when everything seems most hopeless, rock music seems to solve it all. The music and the scene around it have ended up being the refuge of kids from bad homes, melancholy youths and potential criminals since its very inception. And because so many young adults find their way in the shadow of well-lit stages, the music’s allowed to remain a phenomenon.
But what happens once you’re in it? Truthfully, you avoid some responsibilities by adopting others. There are people you have to meet, concerts you have to attend and late nights where you must live it all up. It’s all gotta stop sometime, doesn’t it? That’s what Day Friend contemplates as the band invents a female hero meant to exemplify these particular growing pains.
“Street Light” is meant to sound like a mix between The Smiths and The Strokes, which, ultimately, makes it all sound like The Drums. It’s a nice, pleasant sound meant to evoke distress and nostalgia. It’s a story as old as time about finding something that works for you only to, eventually, have to give it up for a job. But it’s also a story that ends with a bike wrapped around a pole, something, hopefully, that will not be part of most tales.
