Selling my fingers
To a Blenderman
I know he won’t be disappointed
The Washington, D.C.-based BRNDA open their recent single with this statement, soon following with the invocation:
Thoughts of disease
And trees
And a pain in my knees
Who or what is a Blenderman? Is he a symbol of the innate carnality of all mankind, as personified by Nick Cave’s Loverman? Is he an allegory for something more mythical and intangible, such as Bob Dylan’s Jokerman (or even a Mr. Tambourine Man, for that matter)?
From BRNDA’s description, the Blenderman seems altogether more chaotic and laconic than any of the above. He thrives on messes created in the twilight hours, feeding on the remains of an upturned apartment. Yet, he appears to do so entirely at his own pace, as exemplified by BRNDA’s laid-back vocal delivery. The harmonies are there to tidy things up, but never overtly so. This is the Blenderman, after all; he need not sugar-coat his arrival. Confident guitar lines illuminate the path ahead while bass lines slither, drums skittering and slipping along the way.
By the time the song reaches its conclusion—just a hair over three minutes in length—we are left still wondering about the true identity of the Blenderman. I suppose that’s by design. Beyond that, I am simply thankful that BRNDA have opted to carry the D.C. art-punk torch in such a way, giving credence to the absurd and the abstract by way of their own crazy rhythms.
Written by Jacob Simons
