Sarah and the Sundays Wrestle With The World's Chaos in 'Like A Damn Dog'
Austin-based indie rock group Sarah and the Sundays' third studio album Like A Damn Dog is a raw and poignant exploration of the tangled emotions and realities that come with stepping into adulthood. Across 12 heartfelt tracks, the album captures the push and pull between hope and disillusionment, love and loss, certainty and doubt. It wrestles with the chaos of a world that feels simultaneously wide open and out of control, inviting listeners to sit in the discomfort of uncertainty and find solace in shared experiences.
The album's opener, "The Cue," hurts so good, like pushing on a bruise amid healing, reminding you of the pain of the initial impact and releasing a shot of endorphins. Lead singer Liam Yorgensen's vocals give off a downtrodden vibe as he describes running into a lover who has since left his life, expressing to listeners, "As much as I hate your guts, I think of you all the time / You got under my skin, I let you, how asinine." As forlorn guitar strums, thrumming bass lines, and driving percussion join the mix and intensify on the hook, Yorgensen admits that he deserved better when they parted ways and, in hindsight, regrets some of the things they did and didn't do when the break up initially happened. In the track's third verse, he describes himself as a vulture and his relationship as "the carnage," alluding to attempting to get something out of a relationship that has already run its course, with a gruesome tone describing the mess of it all. In the end, all he can do is "wish I never took the bait, wish I never got high / Should've washed you away while I still had time / I mean, look at me now, I wish I could cry / Get it all out, go on and find the next guy / I should've washed you away."
"Casanova" boasts a sunnier disposition that hides mountains of pressure. Lead guitarist and background vocalist Brendan Whyburn particularly shines on this track, supporting his bandmate with summery yet angsty guitar licks. Throughout the song, Yorgensen wrestles with the weight of other's expectations, trying to make his case that he's just a normal guy trying to exist, pay rent, and sometimes play pretend in his head. On the hook, he sings, "God, it's priceless, I'm leaving lifeless, I feel like I'm delusional / And in the same breath I use to confess, I, I tell a lie like usual / But don't get me wrong, it's all that I want / I'm just afraid that I'm not what you thought / And I won't ever be."
The record is further anchored by songs like "Policy," You Must Be Tired," and "Cease." The former, which features a particularly memorable guitar solo, is a moving and raw effort that critiques systemic failings and the distant forces shaping our futures. Meanwhile, "Cease" proves to be a beautiful creation oozing with powerful and emotional lyrics like, "I'm not the prophet I want to be / The devil he gave me shit advice." Yorgensen's vocals stretch, bend, and break as he narrates his struggle with reality, wishing he could go home and wondering if he'll ever know true peace.
The album's finale, "Ignore Me," is perhaps one of the band's most haunting songs ever written. Opening with sparse piano playing, Yorgensen asks some unknown audience if they're listening and if they, too, are picturing "All the things you wish, but know you couldn't do?" The first introduction of the chorus is heartbreaking as he addresses "glory," telling them to ignore him and that he's a wasted, stupid, degraded, "implore of imagination," and later asking for forgiveness. He croons, "Dear child, say, 'Thank you' / Dear body, I hate you / Don't bother, I'm sorry / All I ever do is let you down." In the song's second half, ghostly harmonies and sonics bleed into the mix, creating an uncomfortable yet irresistible experience, like a siren song leading the ship to wreck against the rocks.
Like A Damn Dog delivers a vulnerable yet defiant soundtrack to navigating modern life. It's a switch-up from their previous albums, with lyrically devastating tracks that touch on death, loss, grief, self-deprecation, and more. Although this body of work is full of pain, and hell, even this world is full of pain, it reminds us that we are, in fact, also still alive, and that's gotta be worth something.
Listen to Like a Damn Dog below:
