The songs present themselves as having been planted and nurtured like clustered flower beds that bloom into a meadow you can wade through knee-deep a new experience to greet you at every passing glance. The womp womp of horns on Little Drum, the unsettling ambience of Death Dream, and even the pop-rock flashes of Break – perhaps a nod to the joyful cacophony of friends, Oxford Collapse – were all new avenues that showed the band’s desire for change. But not unlike The National, their progression was incremental – adding extensions to their house instead of selling up and starting over elsewhere. This evolution is encapsulated on the Jekyll and Hyde nature of Lump Street, which looms with a dystopian dread for its first half before exploding in a cloudburst of guitars that transports listeners back to winters of mixed drinks.ĭespite the scrutiny it was subjected to, the deftness of Dessner’s touch, and any perceived polishing of the band’s sound had no effect on the armour piercing nature of Hutchison’s lyrics. In fact, despite sometimes being told from the outside looking in, Painting Of A Panic Attack contains some of his most lacerating verses. Such is the emotional heft he was willing to throw into these songs that some, at the time of its release, questioned Hutchison’s legitimacy. But you cannot fake a faceless pain that darkens your door. ![]() Hutchison was just doing as he had always done: battling his demons in the only way he knew how, and, in doing so, rescuing countless others along the way. Such honesty is hard to hear, and Hutchison came to epitomise a new form of masculinity where real strength is found in the bravery and courage it takes to share your vulnerability. #Lyrics frightened rabbit death dream series.
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