"Savage" is a song we have been playing live for most of 2013. Many people have asked me on Tumblr and Twitter what this song is called and when it will be released, so here it is!
I think it’s important to explain a song a little bit, but not too much. The song is written about a specific set of circumstances and experiences, and Matt and I did such-and-such when we recorded it, but ultimately what the song is ‘about’ is less important than how and why it is meaningful for you when you listen to it. Explaining too much about the details of the song is not the point, so I won’t.
"Savage" is about a friendship, it’s mysteries and it’s moments of excitement, and the way drugs played into all of it. It’s about letting go of a relationship as it changes and the emotions that go along with that.
The song was originally a lot more minimal, just piano loops and bass. As we played it live it evolved a little bit, Matt started incorporating reverb swells and exploring the ways those could be used (along with a number of other additions) to create dynamics in the song.
Happy to be releasing it! It’s been fun to play it live over the past year.
I’ve been waiting half a year to hear this song again. One of the best of the year, easy. I believe in Majical Cloudz completely.
I went to a month-long sports day camp when I was a kid, which I enjoyed even though I was terrible at everything we did. Couldn’t dribble, couldn’t throw, couldn’t bat. It was all fun, but there were discouraging stretches in any given day, to be sure. There’s some point in minute twelve of a twenty-minute-long football game where you remember that you don’t know any of the rules of football and haven’t touched the ball and, moreover, don’t want to touch the ball because you wouldn’t know what to do with it if you got it. I first heard the word “fumble” when I fumbled on one of the bizarre times somebody threw to me.
My super power was tucked away in my history taking gymnastics classes. They weren’t serious gymnastics classes. I didn’t master a pommel horse; I had instead learned how to somersault and navigate a balance beam. And the sports camp had us play “gladiator” one day, which is a made-up game where two kids stand on opposite sides of a balance beam and whack each other with giant foam tubes until one of them falls over and the counselor gives a thumbs down if he believes the winner should decapitate the loser.
I was prepared. I had the inertia of an overweight anvil. I didn’t even have to whack anybody— I just stood on the balance beam and let the other kids hit my legs until they tired themselves out and became unsteady.
I planted my flag in the ground and declared “The women who love you will one day love me,” and then I beat my chest and bled Gatorade from self-inflicted victory wounds on my leg that counted off the number of soccer champs I had bested.
I went to a free music festival with a friend and one of his friends, who I had met a few times previously but haven’t seen since. This was two years ago, I think.
The event grounds were far enough away that we had to take the metro for forty minutes and then take a bus for twenty minutes and then take a cab for another twenty minutes. So yes, the festival was free, but we felt like we earned our tickets.
At one point we walked out onto this giant, muddy field to watch Cut Copy, who make triumphant dance music with all of these crescendoes and moments where the lead singer can say something like “with hearts on fire I reach out to you today” and have it sound completely profound, and it was great. It was fantastic. The field smelled like horse poop. It was like we were standing on a millimeter of grass, and that was resting on top of an Olympic pool of manure. And Cut Copy transcended that smell.
So I am looking forward to their new album, which comes out tomorrow.
Two years ago I was in Hawaii and was in an area where two beaches were close enough together that I could start at one and snorkel to the other in about forty-five minutes. The starting beach was in a prime location for looking at fish (and a turtle!) and the destination beach was near where I would be eating lunch, so I began at the one and swam to the other.
What I hadn’t anticipated, and what you can’t really see when you’re on the sand, looking over the water, is that everything got really shallow about halfway between the two beaches and continued until the edge of the destination beach. So I was swimming along and then the rocks started to come up and the spiky anemones got a little too close and I ended up swimming the last half hour with my stomach sucked in so I wouldn’t cut myself on the rocks or sea life. At times, the water was, at most, halfway to knee-deep, so I moved by grabbing the rocks under me and pushing forward. There wasn’t really space to kick or properly paddle.
The whole time, I kept thinking “this is going to be something I remember for a while. This is a weird little endurance test that will make me stronger.” And I of course completely forgot about it until a few minutes ago, when I found a bizarre postcard from the trip in my desk. I wanted the experience to be this defining thing as it was happening, so it of course meant nothing and taught me nothing and has been of no significance to my life in any way.
It’s a great excuse to play with bubbles. It can invigorate you. It’s the perfect opportunity to sing your heart out. Or unwind with the warm, steamy water. You can wear a mask. Crank the water up and grab some body wash to combat a hot, muggy day. You can reflect on your deepest thoughts. The feeling of a warm bathrobe is absolutely glorious. And a blast of cold water at the end can be totally refreshing.
Thanks to my friend Dan for showing me this incredible Tumblr.