Listen of the Week: Wet

Don’t You, by Wet

If there was nothing more to Wet than Zutrau’s cut-wide-open lyricism, Don’t You would be a long, painful poem about romance and its inadequacies, and one that most listeners wouldn’t have the stomach to sit through. Thankfully, there is more to Wet — namely multi-instrumentalists Joe Valle and Marty Sulkow, who work in tandem to make Zutrau’s version of the abyss as seductive as possible. Drawing on the minimalist R&B template set forth by Dev Hynes and perfected by SZA, they blend sparse beats, electronic blips, and palm-muted guitar riffs to form a sonic backdrop that’s as thick as pudding and twice as tempting. Some of the textures they come up with are so full and tactile, it’s tempting to tilt the speaker and see if any liquid pours out.

Listen of the Week: Wet

Friday Lyrics Mash: Rolling Under the Bridge

See how I leave with every piece of you?
I can’t help feeling that I’m all alone,
That there’s nobody out there,
And you played it, to the beat –
‘Cause she knows who I am.
She sees my good deeds, rolling in the deep.

Together we cry under the bridge downtown.

(You’re gonna wish you never had met me)
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)

Rolling in the deep, like I did that day, rolling in the deep.

(You’re gonna wish you never had met me)
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)

But you played it.
We could have had it all.

At least I have her love.
You had my heart inside of your hand.

We could have had it all under the bridge downtown.

(You’re gonna wish you never had met me)
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)

I walk through her hills.
I don’t ever want to feel.
Reaching a fever pitch, it’s bringing me out the dark,
Reaching a fever pitch.
The city she loves me.
We could have had it all.
Take me to the place I love.
Forgot about my love.

(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)

Think of me in the depths of your despair.
The scars of your love remind me of us.
Go ‘head and sell me out and I’ll lay your shit bare.
Sometimes I feel I could not get enough.
You had my heart inside of your hand.

I drive on her streets
And you played it to the beat.
Sometimes I feel I could not get enough
And you played it to the beat.

It all, it all, it all…
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)

The scars of your love, they leave me breathless
Like my only friend.
And I’m gonna make your head burn
Under the bridge downtown.

We could have had it all.
Take me to the place I love.
Take me all the way.
I never worry.
I gave my life away, rolling in the deep.
I don’t ever want to feel
There’s a fire starting in my heart.

We could have had it all under the bridge downtown.
We could have had it all.

Now that is a lie.

Friday Lyrics Mash: Rolling Under the Bridge

Violations

There are more people
     in this courtroom
     then we see
     in church pews.

Breathing bureaucracy
     as theology.

(Theocracy-fueled theodicy)

                         Your judge is tired.

                         You are her work.

Day after day after day after day,
     adjudicating,
     nipping contempt where it buds.

Bench warrants handed out
     like sweet cherry pie.

                         You are the last in line.

                         You approach her holy honor.

No communion offered.
     Only judgement.
     Only evidence.
     Only fines assessed.

Your court date gets
e    x    t    e    n    d    e    d.

                         Police swarm the courtroom.

                         They smell sparks of discontent.

Violations

This Does Not Mean That Things Do Not Matter

Your wrinkled hands hold nothing
     and they are beautiful.

Your heart, an empty vessel,
     beats with perfection.

Your soul, a wind-blown leaf.

Your mind, now a grey tempest,
     was born of stillness.

Your body, a pillar of dust.

Your faith, a smile in a mirror,
     comforts a silent room.

Your love is everything
     and everything your love.

This Does Not Mean That Things Do Not Matter

Social Anxieties That Will Not Be Cured by SSRIs Alone

There are 5,323,208,384
unread messages
in your in-box…
one is from him.

You made me a playlist.
I wanted a mixtape.

She always retweets.
You always favorite.

Facebook was your happy place
before all your real friends showed up.

If Instagram had shown him anything,
it’s that he loved only fine foods
and island vacations

and yoga pants.

They watched
you disappear
in Snapchat.
     For days
          they cried
               real tears.

Social Anxieties That Will Not Be Cured by SSRIs Alone