Friendship – “Resident Evil”
/Merge Records
I don’t know about you guys, but I am excited for the new Friendship record. Yes, that’s the band’s name, “Friendship,” literally un-Googlable without the word ‘band’ following, but even still, 2022’s Love the Stranger was one of my favorite records of that year. The group’s third album saw them swapping Owen Ashworth’s Ordinal Records for Merge, an incredible indie rock baton pass if I’ve ever seen one. Friendship’s music is centered around bandleader Dan Wriggins’ plainspoken voice as he paints poetic portraits of malaise, small pleasures, and life-changing love. That record has gotten me through a few rough winters at this point, but their upcoming album Caveman Wakes Up is decidedly a spring release and seems to be bringing with it a new lease on things, like someone who’s eagerly been waiting for a refresh.
The singles for Caveman have been expectedly knockout. First, there was “Free Association,” a heartbroken song kicked off by a five-note guitar line and driven forward by cascading drumwork. Then there was “All Over the World,” a laid-back strummer that shotguns a Busch Light can and leans into the band’s most lackadaisical impulses. Like every other Friendship song, these two tracks hone in on hyper-specific observations, using small signposts as landmarks that link up to much more profound observations and struggles.
Released last week, the group’s latest single, “Resident Evil” uses the horror video game franchise to illustrate a scorching depiction of someone who just doesn’t have their shit together. The track begins with a few resonant emo guitar strums that set the table like a Sharks Keep Moving soundscape. As this instrumental foundation is laid, Wriggins soon emerges, discussing a recent bout of nightmares and the unshakable sense that something wicked is in the air. Proper spooky for a song named after a zombie outbreak.
With each line, we get a small new brush stroke that reveals more about his living situation: “Shirts piled on a chair / Smell of the stranger lurking in my house / New roommate moving in.” Wriggins continues, repeating “Guess this is how some people live,” shrugging it off like he’s still trying to convince himself. In the song’s most impactful moment, he turns his attention outward to articulate a snarling condemnation as he sings, “Some shithead in my living room / Playing Resident Evil.” These lines are punctuated by a series of snare hits that make your spine stand up straight, a violent lash in instrumental form.
By the time the second verse rolls around, the perspective shifts, and you begin to wonder if Wriggins is still talking about his new roommate or himself as he questions, “Who's that monster I've been living with?” While I’m hesitant to describe myself as a “gamer,” I’m still someone who recognizes this title and the easter eggs buried within the lyrics. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve been that shithead in the living room playing Resident Evil, and once you’ve been the person in that position, it’s hard not to cast aspersions on them. This ends up making for one of Friendship’s most acerbic and scathing songs, but sometimes that approach is the only thing to shake a person loose.