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Valley’s “When You Know Somebody” opens with a distantly chugging guitar, some ambient synth, and a soft-yet-epic piano line.
That is adopted by drums and a count-off—“1, 2, 3, 4!”—earlier than the bass and distorted electrical guitar announce the music’s full arrival. An sudden however welcome harmonica riff floats atop this very rock ’n’ roll liftoff, as if the freight prepare of yesteryear and the stadium anthem of now-ish have been mingling like outdated friends catching up at a reunion.
Quickly the vocal takes over from the harmonica, and the feel of the music modifications to create space for the melody. Lead vocalist Rob Laska delivers his phrases in a conversational, virtually aloof means.
When you already know somebody
Assume you already know somebody
So nicely
The repetition comes with an necessary alteration: in the event you assume you already know somebody, there’s an excellent probability you don’t. And in the event you assume you already know the individual nicely, you would possibly actually be in hassle.
The lyrics waste no time in attending to what that hassle is perhaps.
And after they break your coronary heart
It’s by no means equal elements
Oh nicely
All of a sudden the power and propulsion of the music really feel much less like a freight prepare towards the long run and extra like a determined retreat from a still-too-near current. Possibly it’s a little bit of each. As nonchalant because the “oh nicely” desires to return throughout, Laska’s singer/protagonist is struggling and even resenting the unfairness of all of it, wanting “equal elements” of struggling for the offending get together to settle the rating of the current previous and make a break for a greater future.
To intensify this pursuit/retreat, the refrain soars and Laska’s voice sheds its cool to “bounce ship proper there in mid-ocean,” although maybe he’d somewhat his audience-of-one make the leap. The road “one other sinking hand means one much less that I’m holding” is ambiguous—he may very well be up on the boat letting go of this heartbreaker, or the heartbreaker may very well be letting go of him. One will get the sense that the singer/protagonist desires each—if I’m taking place, you’re going with me—however is “too proud to say so,” going into the tip of the refrain.
I’m not what you need
When you already know somebody
You actually know somebody
Somebody like me
That is the brutal rub of rejection, of the “secret life” that might indicate an affair or simply an abiding but unstated disinterest or dissatisfaction—that even after you’re recognized, actually recognized, you won’t be accepted, saved, held onto because the waves roll by and perhaps swallow you up.
The phrase “somebody like me” incorporates one other ambiguity: the heartbreaker’s new lover is perhaps identical to the poor man singing the music. They is perhaps the identical peak, have related style in music and flicks, put on related outfits, have related hairdos, drive related vehicles. Such similarity could make the rejection really feel further ridiculous and pointless, as in, “For those who actually knew me, you’d know the way completely different I’m from that individual.” Or it may merely be that the singer/protagonist’s pleasure prohibits him from admitting that it’s not a lot “somebody like” him who’s been solid away as simply really him—“somebody like me” turns into a rhetorical neighbor of “asking for a good friend.”
The second verse provides element and a construct from sparse phrases to compact ones, ratcheting up stress the best way an excellent argument-in-one’s-head ought to.
So sick of making an attempt too little, then making an attempt too onerous
Anticipating me to seek out you once you left me at midnight
A line like that’s too good for actual life, which is why it’s so satisfying in music.
Equally satisfying is the guitar solo that comes simply after the second refrain. Arrange with 4 accentuated beats on the drums, it nonetheless manages to be shocking, slipping into open area simply briefly to introduce a fuzzy new melody. The phrase “somebody like me” is then repeated with ever bigger intervals between the “like” and the “me,” bringing tuneful sweetness to a dissolution of self.
After which, virtually inaudibly, a background vocal lists the little issues—“toothpaste,” “headphones,” “automobile keys”—in addition to the massive ones—“errors,” “your final phrases,” “I like you.” It’s as if the waves of the ocean have been compressed into a tub drain, all the things swirling down as soon as and for all.
The band’s energetic musical freight prepare fades right into a warped solo piano, slowly repeating themes till, as if from exhaustion, it breaks down.
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