“I went through a long period of time where I felt I was the reason that we weren’t progressing, because we weren’t playing with any bands that had women in them. I was like, ‘Oh, everything I’m singing about is wrong, my voice is wrong, my voice is hyper-feminine,’ she says. “I felt it was so not what everyone else was doing. We would play with these all dude bands, like every show we would play would be like us, four white dudes, five white dudes, six white dudes, and then like me. Then I think lyrically, too, I write from a very feminine perspective and I’m not at all ashamed of that, but when I first started with our band I felt really ashamed of that. I was like, ‘Maybe I am the problem.’”
Don’t sleep on this album.
I started writing this song the day that everyone in Hawaii was alerted to a nuclear missile headed their way. Luckily it ended up being a false alarm, but that day I couldn’t stop thinking about actually living out the end of your world, and THE world, and how devastated I would be by the loss of things that are for the most part, really simple and small. To me, this bizarre event and the feelings of panic and global mistrust that ensued also echoed all of the horrible events that have taken place politically in our country in the past several years. This is a love song to little moments that make me feel like we might make it out the other end.
Hendricks is made of these moments. “Part of it is I have no chill, I’m a super intense person,” she says. “I remember back in high school, I’d become obsessed with one person, and felt like I was madly in love with them. I’d drive around in my car and cry about them, and I remember thinking: No one has ever felt this much, no one knows what this feels like.” That teenage feeling — the one which isolates you in your intensity, as though the whole world’s going down on a sinking ship — has extended into Hendricks’s adult life and Charly Bliss’s latest album.