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A guy recently told me about “Blackout Wednesday,” the ritual of hitting your hometown bar on Thanksgiving Eve to experience the Ripley’s Believe it or not museum of exes, old friends you lost touch with, Oscar from peewee soccer (he was always chill), and your friend's wasted mom? (divorced). Bleeds puts music to that feeling. If you have a hometown - and I don’t mean some bullshit in Connecticut - this album is for you.
True to small-town American life, the scenes of Bleeds take place in the car: a series of on-ramps and off-ramps, maybe a fender-bender, sideswipe, or keyed-car-made-to-look -like-a-sideswipe, along the way. So much of our lives are spent in these moments of coming and going, and most people choose to drown out their thoughts with a manosphere or true crime podcast (opiate of the masses). Wednesday’s world is one where you get sent out for milk but take a “wrong” turn on the way, somehow finding yourself cruising your high-school ex’s block or past the old makeout parking lot, hand out the window listening to music no one would even get here, wondering what might’ve been.
True to small-town American life, the scenes of Bleeds take place in the car: a series of on-ramps and off-ramps, maybe a fender-bender, sideswipe, or keyed-car-made-to-look -like-a-sideswipe, along the way. So much of our lives are spent in these moments of coming and going, and most people choose to drown out their thoughts with a manosphere or true crime podcast (opiate of the masses). Wednesday’s world is one where you get sent out for milk but take a “wrong” turn on the way, somehow finding yourself cruising your high-school ex’s block or past the old makeout parking lot, hand out the window listening to music no one would even get here, wondering what might’ve been.
Dec 31, 2025