It’s a truly modern sense of lyricism, right on the cusp of indie-rock, with a distinct college flavor, and a sort of Rushmore-style coming-of-age moment. It’s a validation of one’s own feelings; we so easily get stuck in this social labyrinth of dead-ends, paralyzed by the fear of failure, or worse: judgement.

The sense here is of simply finding somewhere to put two feet on the ground.

The grass grows from the gutters of my parents’ house
I rubberneck and cruise right by
ain’t got no time to lend a helping hand
ain’t got no time to be a loving man

And this, to me, is the best type of musical catharsis; the one that reveals a simple and universal truth. I remember struggling with this as an unwashed newcomer to turn-of-the-millennium Los Angeles: why are we expected to be a certain kind of person, when all of popular media points us the other way?

It’s the cognitive dissonance of our time: we are expected to be divine, with no support for the stutter-steps that just might have gotten us there.

MARLBORO is a town, is a trap, is freedom, and is the most recent incarnation of songwriter and country son Dante DeFelice (based in New York). This song is featured on our CHILL NEW Songwriters playlist.