
Indie-rockers Bad Veins, after an 8-year hiatus, just released a nostalgic, camcorder-shot video for lead single "Wendy." To celebrate we asked Benjamin Davis to tell us about the track. Here is the story:
I feel like it can be insanely difficult, if not impossible to explain the lyrics to a song in a way that doesn't in some way destroy it's original intent. You can't dissect something without killing it. I firmly believe in the expression 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder', as overused as it may be, I seem to come back to it again and again. The way a chord changes at the same time that a new perspective is introduced to a narrative, it's impossible to describe, at least for me. It's intuition, instinct, feeling, We make our way through life consuming with all senses, and what comes out in the creative process is nothing more than a soup compiled of collected ingredients, intentional but mostly not. I guess that's a long way of say I'm not saying anything. Or maybe I can't. Maybe it's a cop-out?
The song Wendy is about Wendy, or at least my feelings about Wendy. Sometimes it seems like this world has become hostile to us fools. Where do I begin? Let's take a look at the music. It's imbalanced, like me, along with the lyrics. It's broken. It repeats. It contradicts itself. I have hope but I'm exhausted. My future is twisted into knots. My heart is sore. I believe I am incapable of doing what is asked of me without pulling back the curtain on the premise of the request, or even better the requestor. I'm confident that no one cares what is being said because no one knows who is saying it. Is that what this is for? You can't expect the donkey to give you the best weather report, and yes, though the monkey can dance, he's not the best at typing. Apparently, eventually, Shakespeare is inevitable; a mathematical certainty even. My life, my thoughts, my purpose, undulate through waves of tangible concepts and loops of nonsense.
Ok, just for a moment. I will concede that I do like strange flutes, and choirs, when the record skips, the smell of an old french horn, church bells, the sound of loosely timed marching snares, the sound of fingers sliding on thick wire. I like the sound of glass smacking marble. I like music when it makes me feel like the wind is blowing. This is beauty, to me, at least in my eyes, the beauty that I behold. I build what I can with the feelings that I'm fighting. I can try to make sense of it, but i'd really rather not. In fact, i believe I might have worked myself into being offended. By what? By thinking I was ever going to be helpful. This is chaos you know? You can't control the flow, you have to either go with it or walk away. I would be impressed with myself if I could create anything that held up to scrutiny, but who would do this suffering? Me? Is it you? whoever is reading this? I believe so. Truly. Thanks and I'm sorry.
Hearing is believing. Now that you know the story behind the song, listen and watch for yourself below and learn more about the group here
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