In a time when this album was desperately needed, Twink Priest gives us “We’re all gonna die”, a shoegaze album of four songs. While the LGBTQ+ and BIPoC communities are directly targeted by erasure, violence, and segregationist legislation in the United States, marginalized communities at large are holding our breath in dread and anxiety. But in the moments we allow ourselves to vent all those feelings? Twink Priest captures that frenetic unrest in the sound of the album’s title track, layering ethereal synth over a snappy percussion line that hits like sneakers on asphalt, like a pounding heart. The artist’s voice, distorted and filtered, echoes over twinkling flourishes while delivering mournful, despairing lyrics:
“Where do I go? I don’t fucking know./I walk down the street and i wish i was alone/Where do I go? I don’t fucking know/Can you stilt through the sky at night?”
Twink Priest’s echoing voice, like lost souls, volleys back and forth as the chaotic melody builds on itself. By the time the song closes out, the panic has dissipated to a steady, piercing beat. Just as quickly as the indignation, nihilism, and despair build within us, coaxing us to scream our frustrations similarly, it comes to an end. We still have to go to work the next day, no matter how agonized we feel under the threat of our own government. Thus, we move along to “Work from home”.
The song starts out slightly muffled, getting clearer with each second as the listener is guided through Twink Priest’s thoughts the night before going to work.
“It’s getting close to 10pm/I don’t wanna wake up early in the morning/because I’m tired and stoned/can i please just work from the comfort of home?”
The bass and treble of the track’s instruments pass rhythms back and forth, always returning to the same easygoing motif ringing out through a square-wave synthesizer. When the lyrics conclude and the music comes to its peak, the same synthesizer blazes through a cadenza carried by a punchy bass and drum line and we’re left with the artist’s thesis to ruminate:
“such a waste of time”
The daily humdrum of life becomes nothing but fulfilling meaningless obligations in the face of oppression. We do what we must only because we have to; otherwise, we would be allowed the time to rest and recover in the face of our grief, no matter how that rest and recovery may look. There is something to be said, as well, for the country’s response to the COVID-19 pandemic and the brief
period of acceptance of remote work seen in that response: It had been proven previously that the majority of jobs US Americans hold can, in fact, be done from home. Instead, it feels as though our time is monopolized just as much as the industries corporations dominate.
We then move on to “Smug”. From the very beginning, an up-tempo rhythm snags our attention, dragging us along into a wild and cheeky jam. An electric bass picks up where the intro drums left off as Twink Priest reflects upon past behaviors and interactions. Whining synths glissando in circles around that flourishing bass line, accenting the artist’s confusion and frustrations.
Twink Priest relates to us a struggle we all likely know quite well, no matter where we are in the world: The unmitigated gall of some people. It is quite easy for someone to quickly become annoying: Perhaps they are a bad conversationalist, or perhaps they’re slurping their drink too loudly or chewing with their mouth full. But, in turn, we must keep ourselves in line: Am I killing the conversation? Am I slurping too loud, or am I not closing my mouth all the way when I chew? Twink Priest’s deliberations bring the following conclusion:
“am i really the rude one?/am i just like everyone?/I don’t think I’m too smug/maybe I’m just a little cunt”
Aren’t we all?
With the echo of Priest’s very first complaint, “so annoying”, the song comes to an abrupt stop. It, and its artist, have made their point perfectly well to the listener. A fitting end to such a self-assured beat.
Finally, we have “Twink Priest, Loker Jock – Meat (ft.Locker Jock)”. Sweeping phasers bring us into this tune, culminating into a headbanging party beat that comes in swinging out of the gate. The song celebrates the promiscuity of gay male hookup culture, alluding to gloryholes and banging a homophobe’s dad. A voice sample repeats “and be a good boy” (likely Locker Jock’s). The music itself alludes to the bassy bumping beats heard even from the outside of most gay nightclubs; an aggressive bass pairs well with proud lyrics.
“baby i’m a verse* but you cant press me/and you wanna whip it out but it don’t impress me” “i might be a bitch but you’re a dog/bro come meet me at the mall”
(*Note: “Verse” is short for “versatile”, AKA a “switch”.)
Within the song, there is as much a deep love for men as there is a clear rebuke of intolerance. In the context of the album, as well as the overarching context of our struggle in the modern United States, the message is clear as day to me: “No matter what you do, we’ll still be queer and we’ll still be right here“. What progress was made in LGBTQ+ acceptance was won through resilience and tenacity. In the face of opposition, we must not cower and hide away in despair, but instead be even more proud with the knowledge that our resistance is carried out through our joy and flourishing.
Twink Priest’s talent lies first and foremost in the distillation of even the most infuriating of frustrations into either a weary admission of acknowledgment, such as “We’re all gonna die” and “Work from home”, or a defiant flip of the middle finger towards the offending institutions, as seen in “Smug” and “Meat”. Characteristic of the shoegaze/bedroom pop genre, the only instruments used are synths; Twink Priest demonstrates a mastery of these sounds that is guaranteed to leave at least one of those thumping riffs in the back of your mind for hours after listening.
Priest reigns us all in with the cry of hopeless grief we can all relate to, only to aggressively remind us to not sacrifice our joy. The world is unfair, the drudgery of the rat race is soul-sucking, and other people can get on our last nerves. But is there not some measure of satisfaction to be had in knowing that even in our lowest moments, we are far happier than our detractors would wish us? Or even just in the mental image of screwing their dad and making them watch? Put simply, Twink Priest’s “We’re all gonna die” seeks to balm the hearts and spirits of Priest’s queer kin with an invocation of our Pride. I can gladly say that Priest has succeeded in healing the heart of at least one gay, transgender lover of music.
Written by Alexei Lee
