"Each song on postromantic focuses on a different couple of characters," writes Vivienne Wilder. "But they're all one-sided conversations.
"‘Never Lovers’ I wrote relatively quickly when I was staying in my old bedroom at my parents’ place in Regina. I was working there for about 2 months a couple years ago, and it was the first time I’d been back for any length of time like that for over 10 years, since I'd moved to Toronto. So I was walking around downtown Regina and I was being flooded by so many intense memories from this dramatic time in my life when I was in my late teens. I imagine it’s this way for most people: it’s roughly the age many of us experience first love and first heartbreak. You’re coming of age. Perhaps you’re escaping your high-school identity. The world is full of possibilities. At best, your life feels like the most epic movie; at worst, you’re lucky if you have a friend to hold back your hair while you’re puking into the toilet at 4am. So, in that spirit, this song is me channeling a girl in her late teens, early twenties. She’s dealing with a complicated relationship with an older man that she both worships like a fangirl and simultaneously loathes for his nonchalance and hypocrisy. It’s vaguely autobiographical but truthfully, my songs are populated by Frankenstein monsters."
lyrics
We were never lovers, so I threw away your letters
Now it's crouching in the stairwell, getting bolder every mile
Treat me like a brother, guess you always did know better
It's a telephone to nowhere, now, smile crocodile
If we just lived in the same town, maybe we
You never took me nowhere, so I'll take you for a drive
Baby I'm no vulture, I'm just trying to skirt time
Chew the fat, drown the cat, why're you always coming back
Tonight I just want to forget, even if I don't survive
And you said, and you said
We were never lovers
If we just lived in the same town, maybe we
We were never lovers so I copied all your answers
I forgot all of my manners and I dug up all your bones
Broke all of your records and I tied up all your jump ropes
And I jam packed up your suitcase and I'm calling it my home
Don't be heavy handed, no, don't use your words too well
Columbines and daisies and a thousand snail shells
What the hell is wrong, oh gee, it seems it's getting worse
Nothing's more than nothing, got your shadow in my purse
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