Rewrite
The impressive singer-songwriter and producer takes Wonderland through her fourth studio album, track-by-track.
From the gentle crooning of the opening inflections on “Perfect” to the swirling remedy of the coda of “Metal Detectors”, Du Blonde’s fourth studio album, Sniff More Gritty, is a captivating and compelling affair. Slick production from the artist herself lays foundation for vivid, playful and potent songwriting and daring, deft and dominant vocal performances. It’s an expertly concocted record of rigorous pop, intoxicating rock, and stellar indie; the work of a unique and uncompromising maverick who has always stayed true to her artistic core.
To celebrate the release, Du Blonde takes Wonderland through the album, track-by-track.
Listen to Sniffy More Gritty…
Read the track-by-track…
“Perfect”
I wrote “Perfect” about being so in love with somebody that you’re willing to try and change your whole being just to have them still love you. The verses speak to that uncomfortable bending of your own desires, personality, and even body, and the choruses are written from the perspective of the other person, constantly irritated by your lack of ability to become their perfect partner.
“Dollar Coffee”
“Dollar Coffee” was originally titled “Kwik-E-Mart”, but I didn’t want to be sued by The Simpsons. The song itself is a kind of visual diary of a lot of the times I’ve spent in LA. The first line, ‘I’d walk a mile in slides to make it to the “Kwik-E-Mart” refers to the daily trips I’d take to the 7Eleven in West Hollywood to buy my dollar coffee just so I could begin to function for the day. The clips of speech between the verses are an ode to Frank Zappa’s Valley Girl with a twist of anxiety, and the choruses are what I envisioned a song would sound like if Meatloaf and Shania Twain had a baby.
“Solitary Individual”
I used to live with a guy who liked to go clubbing, and it seemed to really upset him that I liked to stay home. It was as though my solitude gave him really bad anxiety, and he spent a lot of time trying to convince me that I would be 100% happier if I stayed out taking drugs with strangers until 5am. So I wrote Solitary Individual for all those people who love to spend time with themselves. Being alone and being lonely are two different things. Having Laura Jane Grace sing with me on this track was such a thrill. I love the power of her voice and the conviction of her words.
“TV Star”
I wrote “TV Star” about someone I used to know. They were one of the kindest, most considerate people I’d ever met. Just a really great person. Then one day they got famous, and seemingly overnight all of those beautiful aspects of their personality flipped. The verses are kind of nostalgic, lamenting the loss of a good friend, and the choruses kind of speak to the anguish you feel when someone treats you badly and you’re hanging around, hoping the version of the person you used to know comes back.
“Out of a Million”
I used to smoke a lot of weed, but in 2012 I made the mistake of smoking from a bong at a party, not knowing it was laced with ketamine, and I ended up setting my head on fire (luckily I was wearing a hat) and remained high for like 3 days. 6 months later, I had a nervous breakdown, and I haven’t been able to smoke since. I wrote “Out of a Million” as a kind of love song/goodbye to weed. I’d been in my local cafe, and the staff were talking about getting the giggles when they’re high, and I spent the day missing that feeling. So I sat down at the piano and this is what came out.
“ICU”
In 2017, I was in hospital with a burst appendix. After the surgery I was meant to be given a drain, but instead they just sewed me up, leaving nowhere for all the fluid to go. I ended up developing sepsis, but I was told it was anxiety and that I needed to go home, so by the time I returned the next day, I was very close to dying. It left me with PTSD, not just around my health but also in terms of health care and the people you’re supposed to trust when it comes to medical treatment. The verses document the time I was in the hospital: having my bell disconnected by the nurses, going into shock, having my veins collapse, and the choruses speak to the person I was dating at the time, who tried to convince me not to waste the hospital’s time because they thought my stomach pains were again, ‘just anxiety’.
“Blame”
Moving neatly on from ICU, I wrote “Blame” about gaslighting in relationships. It took me years to realise that if you start dating someone and all their exes are ‘crazy’, there’s usually a reason. Blame talks about the specific dynamic between two people when one manipulates and pushes the other to the point of breaking, just to turn around and point the finger when their partner finally loses it. It’s like poking an animal over and over, just to be surprised when it finally bites back.
“Lucky”
“Lucky” began as a very stream-of-consciousness song. A lot of the time when I’m writing, I come up with the chord structure and the melody first, singing random made-up lyrics as placeholders with the intention of going back and writing real lyrics once I’ve got the bones of the song down, but every so often I end up keeping whatever I first wrote. The pre-chorus definitely plays on the sarcasm from album opener “Perfect”: “I’ve been working on my demons and my personality, I’m just an inch away from being what you need.” I really wanted this song to take on elements of the The Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack that I love so much. Like I mentioned earlier, the camp theatrics of that movie give the same feeling you get from Meatloaf records. I’m obsessed with the kind of rock-opera musical theatre ostentatiousness of it all, and I’m stoked I’ve finally figured out ways to get that into my music.
“Yesterday”
“Yesterday” is about a fuckboy (and thus, all fuckboys). I’d been talking to a guy for a few weeks who seemed super genuine, sweet, and kind of shy, and I was shocked to find out that this was just a performance he would put on in order to collect girls. It turned out he was pretty gross. I particularly like the fly-swat sound effect in this one.
“Next Big Thing” (ft. Skin)
Next Big Thing was one of the first songs I wrote for the album. It’s the result of my first 15 years in the music industry, from audience members shouting “Take your top off!” during my first shows at 15, to label executives telling me to be less ‘sensitive’ about being sexually harassed. Every line in the song is something that has been personally said to me by folks in the industry, but speak to almost any woman or femme-presenting musician, and they will have stories to match. Having Skin join me on this song is an honour, not just because of the impact she had on kids like me in the 90s, but because she has always been outspoken about her experiences as a frontwoman of a rock band in a male-dominated field. It’s pioneers like her who paved the way for a lot of young girls and queer kids who didn’t necessarily see themselves on TV or global stages, and I’m so grateful to have her join me on this track.
“Radio Jesus”
I wrote “Radio Jesus” during the height of the pandemic. I’d been thinking a lot about the ways we cope with loneliness and how loud the silence can be when we don’t have the option to socialise, whether that be because of a virus, depression, or just a lack of friends around. I know for me and many others that a quick fix can be just turning on the TV or the radio. The voices of TV show hosts and radio personalities can be the difference between a person making it through the day without that pain in their chest that comes from enforced solitude and just losing straight up losing their mind.
“Metal Detector”
“Metal Detector” is a kind of string of vignettes of relationships I’ve been in when they get to the end stages where two people are too tired of each other to be in love, but too comfortable to break up. I feel like a lot of relationships last much longer than they should because of our tendency towards habit and our fear of the unknown. Better the devil you know. The bacon and eggs line in the chorus was inspired by Martin Parr’s 1993 photographic series ‘Bored Couples’, where he took candid photos of unsuspecting couples in diners, eating their meals in silence and staring into the middle distance with a glaze over their eyes. I also feel like the mundane parts of life can sometimes end up being the most cinematic. So much attention is put on the exciting or horrifying events of our lives, but more often than not, life is made up predominantly of little meaningless moments that together make a soft and human story.
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The impressive singer-songwriter and producer takes Wonderland through her fourth studio album, track-by-track.
From the gentle crooning of the opening inflections on “Perfect” to the swirling remedy of the coda of “Metal Detectors”, Du Blonde’s fourth studio album, Sniff More Gritty, is a captivating and compelling affair. Slick production from the artist herself lays foundation for vivid, playful and potent songwriting and daring, deft and dominant vocal performances. It’s an expertly concocted record of rigorous pop, intoxicating rock, and stellar indie; the work of a unique and uncompromising maverick who has always stayed true to her artistic core.
To celebrate the release, Du Blonde takes Wonderland through the album, track-by-track.
Listen to Sniffy More Gritty…
Read the track-by-track…
“Perfect”
I wrote “Perfect” about being so in love with somebody that you’re willing to try and change your whole being just to have them still love you. The verses speak to that uncomfortable bending of your own desires, personality, and even body, and the choruses are written from the perspective of the other person, constantly irritated by your lack of ability to become their perfect partner.
“Dollar Coffee”
“Dollar Coffee” was originally titled “Kwik-E-Mart”, but I didn’t want to be sued by The Simpsons. The song itself is a kind of visual diary of a lot of the times I’ve spent in LA. The first line, ‘I’d walk a mile in slides to make it to the “Kwik-E-Mart” refers to the daily trips I’d take to the 7Eleven in West Hollywood to buy my dollar coffee just so I could begin to function for the day. The clips of speech between the verses are an ode to Frank Zappa’s Valley Girl with a twist of anxiety, and the choruses are what I envisioned a song would sound like if Meatloaf and Shania Twain had a baby.
“Solitary Individual”
I used to live with a guy who liked to go clubbing, and it seemed to really upset him that I liked to stay home. It was as though my solitude gave him really bad anxiety, and he spent a lot of time trying to convince me that I would be 100% happier if I stayed out taking drugs with strangers until 5am. So I wrote Solitary Individual for all those people who love to spend time with themselves. Being alone and being lonely are two different things. Having Laura Jane Grace sing with me on this track was such a thrill. I love the power of her voice and the conviction of her words.
“TV Star”
I wrote “TV Star” about someone I used to know. They were one of the kindest, most considerate people I’d ever met. Just a really great person. Then one day they got famous, and seemingly overnight all of those beautiful aspects of their personality flipped. The verses are kind of nostalgic, lamenting the loss of a good friend, and the choruses kind of speak to the anguish you feel when someone treats you badly and you’re hanging around, hoping the version of the person you used to know comes back.
“Out of a Million”
I used to smoke a lot of weed, but in 2012 I made the mistake of smoking from a bong at a party, not knowing it was laced with ketamine, and I ended up setting my head on fire (luckily I was wearing a hat) and remained high for like 3 days. 6 months later, I had a nervous breakdown, and I haven’t been able to smoke since. I wrote “Out of a Million” as a kind of love song/goodbye to weed. I’d been in my local cafe, and the staff were talking about getting the giggles when they’re high, and I spent the day missing that feeling. So I sat down at the piano and this is what came out.
“ICU”
In 2017, I was in hospital with a burst appendix. After the surgery I was meant to be given a drain, but instead they just sewed me up, leaving nowhere for all the fluid to go. I ended up developing sepsis, but I was told it was anxiety and that I needed to go home, so by the time I returned the next day, I was very close to dying. It left me with PTSD, not just around my health but also in terms of health care and the people you’re supposed to trust when it comes to medical treatment. The verses document the time I was in the hospital: having my bell disconnected by the nurses, going into shock, having my veins collapse, and the choruses speak to the person I was dating at the time, who tried to convince me not to waste the hospital’s time because they thought my stomach pains were again, ‘just anxiety’.
“Blame”
Moving neatly on from ICU, I wrote “Blame” about gaslighting in relationships. It took me years to realise that if you start dating someone and all their exes are ‘crazy’, there’s usually a reason. Blame talks about the specific dynamic between two people when one manipulates and pushes the other to the point of breaking, just to turn around and point the finger when their partner finally loses it. It’s like poking an animal over and over, just to be surprised when it finally bites back.
“Lucky”
“Lucky” began as a very stream-of-consciousness song. A lot of the time when I’m writing, I come up with the chord structure and the melody first, singing random made-up lyrics as placeholders with the intention of going back and writing real lyrics once I’ve got the bones of the song down, but every so often I end up keeping whatever I first wrote. The pre-chorus definitely plays on the sarcasm from album opener “Perfect”: “I’ve been working on my demons and my personality, I’m just an inch away from being what you need.” I really wanted this song to take on elements of the The Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack that I love so much. Like I mentioned earlier, the camp theatrics of that movie give the same feeling you get from Meatloaf records. I’m obsessed with the kind of rock-opera musical theatre ostentatiousness of it all, and I’m stoked I’ve finally figured out ways to get that into my music.
“Yesterday”
“Yesterday” is about a fuckboy (and thus, all fuckboys). I’d been talking to a guy for a few weeks who seemed super genuine, sweet, and kind of shy, and I was shocked to find out that this was just a performance he would put on in order to collect girls. It turned out he was pretty gross. I particularly like the fly-swat sound effect in this one.
“Next Big Thing” (ft. Skin)
Next Big Thing was one of the first songs I wrote for the album. It’s the result of my first 15 years in the music industry, from audience members shouting “Take your top off!” during my first shows at 15, to label executives telling me to be less ‘sensitive’ about being sexually harassed. Every line in the song is something that has been personally said to me by folks in the industry, but speak to almost any woman or femme-presenting musician, and they will have stories to match. Having Skin join me on this song is an honour, not just because of the impact she had on kids like me in the 90s, but because she has always been outspoken about her experiences as a frontwoman of a rock band in a male-dominated field. It’s pioneers like her who paved the way for a lot of young girls and queer kids who didn’t necessarily see themselves on TV or global stages, and I’m so grateful to have her join me on this track.
“Radio Jesus”
I wrote “Radio Jesus” during the height of the pandemic. I’d been thinking a lot about the ways we cope with loneliness and how loud the silence can be when we don’t have the option to socialise, whether that be because of a virus, depression, or just a lack of friends around. I know for me and many others that a quick fix can be just turning on the TV or the radio. The voices of TV show hosts and radio personalities can be the difference between a person making it through the day without that pain in their chest that comes from enforced solitude and just losing straight up losing their mind.
“Metal Detector”
“Metal Detector” is a kind of string of vignettes of relationships I’ve been in when they get to the end stages where two people are too tired of each other to be in love, but too comfortable to break up. I feel like a lot of relationships last much longer than they should because of our tendency towards habit and our fear of the unknown. Better the devil you know. The bacon and eggs line in the chorus was inspired by Martin Parr’s 1993 photographic series ‘Bored Couples’, where he took candid photos of unsuspecting couples in diners, eating their meals in silence and staring into the middle distance with a glaze over their eyes. I also feel like the mundane parts of life can sometimes end up being the most cinematic. So much attention is put on the exciting or horrifying events of our lives, but more often than not, life is made up predominantly of little meaningless moments that together make a soft and human story.
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