Civilised – Does It Need To Be?
Why do we hurt the ones that we love the most? It could be a question of proximity. When you know someone, inside and out, you become cognisant of their flaws and insecurities. It’s a vulnerable place to be in, for everyone involved. So maybe going in for the kill is easier when you know what the target looks like. It could be a nervous habit, a tendency to run away from responsibility, a moment from the past plastered in their face again. Regardless of what it is, it hurts and it hurts because it comes from you.
The emotions swirling in that aftermath are captured precisely within ‘Conversations With David Berman (Was That Civilised?)’, Skiving’s third single off of their upcoming album The Family Computer, and ahead of two live shows on Nov 26th (Venue MOT) and Dec 13th (The George Tavern). It’s an ironic name given that the song describes the fleeting moment of simultaneous satisfaction and spite after dropping a fatal blow in an argument. There is also a nod to the Silver Jews with the reference to David Berman, an indie-rock band that the group took influence from. Released just two days ago, Skiving have once again captivated the ears of listeners through unapologetic authenticity and cynical storytelling.
In the track, the resonance of the gentle guitar riff begins our auditory narrative. It feels like the afterglow left behind in your eyes after seeing a too-bright light, or the ring of thunder left inside your head after a storm. The imagined prior energy emanates from the reverberating notes of the guitar. The slower tempo is a departure from the band’s two earlier releases ‘The National Lottery’ and ‘Ich Bin Ein Beginner’, a display of how they can change the delivery but still keep their uniquely crafted, distinctive sound. The recognisable graduation of the layered intro, a wonderfully calm yet almost sombre line carried by saxophonist Juan Brint-Gutiérrez is added alongside a second line of brass. Their tender entanglement builds up to the first verse.
Harry Handford is melodic in his delivery, his smooth tone and his rich timbre are enhanced by Leo Dutton’s bass, a soothing sound as we begin to piece together the premise of the lyrical component. It feels like we are witnesses to a clandestine recollection and opposed to a collective call-out like before. Still, leaving room for Skiving’s classic critical eye, the opening lines “Shave off your upper and lower lips // I think you’ve seen the last use of those” are not only a nod to the act of verbally ‘putting your foot in it’ but also the repercussions of that being the loss of a romantic/sexual relationship. It sets what seems to be the tone of the song. Though, with lyrics like “And it’s reckless, but undeniable” the idea that maybe the upset was inevitable, part of our nature, starts to develop in our minds. The tension between hearing a sentiment of subtle satisfaction and the inclination to keep it close to your chest only grows through the increasingly more instrumentally complex layers of the second verse, featuring the return of the entwined saxophone lines.
Approaching the end of the line “It’s functional, it’s indefensible” as Handford holds the last note, the instruments ring out in unison. The saxophone then carries us into the bridge with a rising phrase that is a developed version of what we heard in the break between the first and second verses. The swish and swell of a synth delivers us into the bridge to be met with the full band. Guitars of both Matt Baker and Harry Handford, the drums of Colin Oliver, the bass, and the saxophone all at once. It is a surge of energy and noise, with the group playing power chords in the same rhythm, only for the shine of the brass to soar above and lighten the heavy, full sound through a sustained note and a short flourish. Immediately after, the stacked ensemble goes silent, there is no soft reverb anymore, and all we hear is a short break of a guitar riff leading into a repeat of the section. At which point the vocal line of the bridge returns to provocative, spoken word asking “Was that civilised?”. A rhetorical question that is closely followed by the answer “No, clearly not, it was fun, yes, but in no way civilised”, playing on the early unease between emotion and rationality. With each repetition, the melodic line of the saxophone is more intricate adding to the expansion of the sound. Synths get added to the same effect. Handford’s vocals become more terse, the yearning for a love lost is met with revelry in having been the one to cause it.
After the final plea, once again we are left with the lone sound of the guitar, a stark distinction from the prior abundance. The pace of the song has slowed again, gradually the band rejoins Baker’s guitar. Together, they play more softly, calmly, calling back to the first verse. That is until Handford shouts the line “I’ve got two tickets to a midnight prosecution // Let’s go back, let’s protest baby, let’s stop the dissolution”. The group is playing to their fullest, still maintaining a velvet-like sound. Again it is the multiple lines of the saxophone that shine here, when situated with everything else the impassioned vocals, the repetition of the guitar, the constant presence of the drums tugs at the heart. Till you are left, in the outro with the fading line of synth. A final farewell.
Skiving has directly poked fun at things like the lifestyles of the rich and famous, or the way in which we all get thrown into adulthood with little after thought. In a way this feels different, the subtle jab I feel stems from the tension they create. We question the meaning in the song, in ourselves because yes, we all say the wrong thing sometimes and in a twisted fashion there’s satisfaction in pushing people away. So, we end up asking ourselves, why do we really hurt the ones we love?
