"When we are together"

"When We Are Together" 
The 1975

Scratches of everyday life—snippets of mundane chaos, irrational name-calling, slurs, and “I’m a racist, and you’re some kind of slag.” Just another young couple dipped in the starkness of reality.

"Being funny in a foreign language" isn’t so much groundbreaking as it is brilliantly absurd—a challenge to postmodernism served up by a crew of willing casualties of bacchanalian excess. The result? Twelve tracks of raw monologue, drenched in intoxicated candor. At the helm is Matty Healy, the lead singer who might just start pleasuring himself on stage if not for the pesky constraints of decency laws. Healy revels in this messy expression, an unfiltered riot of chaotic honesty.

“Still... at their very best" Tour, Madison Square Garden

"When We Are Together" is a living room song, much like the set of Madison Square Garden. The 1975 was never a band of chromatic sheaths, but a long shot in monochrome photography—a perfect fit with the reminiscence of a lover. My appreciation of lyrics may be abundant, but I've always considered Matty Healy's writing arbitrarily conscious, and that's absolutely romantic. Are grand gestures romantic, though? Am I alone in thinking that the endless, drawn-out confessions of love are starting to feel a bit stale?

"Our first kiss was Christmas, in a Walmart toy department."

I wouldn't picture any conversation between a couple planning a first kiss in a Walmart toy department, yet because of the randomness behind this act, I find it utterly adorable. If love is simply a product of planned schemes and tactics in words, it undermines the authenticity of love and adoration itself. The entropy within these lines implies oddity, but why not some oddity that sets it apart from prolonged appraisals and flexes of body image in cheesy ballads?

"You ask about the cows, wearin' my sweater

It's somethin' about the weather that makes them lie down

The only time I feel I might get better is when we are together."

Cows aren’t your typical love language, but somehow, they work. Conversations between lovers are often nothing more than snippets of reassurance, and the image of a cold winter night spent in "sweater town" feels just right for a cozy night in.

"Central Park is sea world for trees." Hah, as activists’ burgeoning riots accuse the park of being an unsuitable environment for animals, here, the trees are the witnesses. Fact-checking is so obtuse and stubborn, let alone the explanations on Genius; I'm sure that every songwriter composes to send a message more than allusions. The examination of a love song should be based on how affecting the song itself is.

"When we are together", I think of gibberish descriptions of every living , and non-living beings in this world around me