Over an overdubbed shimmer of steel-string guitars, she thumbs through disjointed snapshots of seasons past. There’s a summer beach day, hazy with desire (“Skin still wet, still on my skin/Mango in your mouth, juice drippin’/Shoulder of your shirt sleeve slippin’”), and a Christmas eve with her lover’s family. But whatever happened here was not all good: That December memory unravels into grocery-store fights, a nasty dog bite, and a trip to the ER. And even that glance back at summer revelry feels ominous in the context of the song’s opening couplet: “Staring down the barrel of the hot sun/Shining with the sheen of a shotgun.”īut those fleeting glimpses of calamity disappear almost as soon as they flash out, while the song’s fragmentary verses lead to a chorus as unguarded and plain-spoken as anything Lenker has written. “I don’t wanna talk about anything/I don’t wanna talk about anything,” she sings “I wanna kiss kiss your eyes again/Wanna witness your eyes lookin’.” Then she repeats a variation of the chorus’ opening line and concludes, “I wanna sleep in your car while you’re driving/Lay in your lap when I’m crying.” On the page, it might not look like much, but sung in Lenker’s high, lonesome voice, multi-tracked in quavering unison with herself, these lines are remarkable for their intimacy and vulnerability.
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