After delighting us with his last release ‘The First Time’ we couldn’t wait to get stuck into Scott Lavene’s new single. Brandishing the same irreverent yet poetically powerful and philosophical wit, it has the raw jagged edges of punk but with the soulful sooth of a satin sleeping bag, listening to your favourite indie folk.
I think it’s fair to say that there is no one else orbiting the same cosmic brilliance that Scott Lavene does. His intergalactic strangeness is a thing of true beauty.
Every one of his songs tells a story so exquisitely crafted that you find yourself tumbling headfirst into it right along side him. At the heart of each is a universal truth, a moral, or a painful realisation, hidden very skilfully as a treasure to be found and cherished. You come out clutching these profound learnings grinning like the village idiot and fleeing the temple where you found it before anyone realises what you’ve taken.
In ‘Worms‘ we begin with a playful introduction on the synths and guitar. There is a bubbling bass that spills over effervescently with major key vibrations and an irresistible little head bouncing groove. It starts out coy and charming, just a regular day out in the garden, digging for treasure, like we all do. With the introduction of the worms though the guts of the song are spilled onto the summer’s lawn.
It’s a song about celebrating your differences, but it goes deeper than that. It’s also about recognising the dark side of you, and for it to be okay to want to be sliced in half by God’s shovel to be free of that miserable prick. It’s not something that can ever happen in reality but the reality Scott paints with the concept is as fabulous as it is farsical.
Blending humour with quite honest and raw lyricism concerning mental health is no easy feat. To mix it with infectious rhythms and ridiculously romping riffs is even more difficult.
Scott Lavene is not just one of my favourite musicians in the country, he’s my favourite poet too. The power of his nonsense knows no bounds, he plucks the profound from the jaws of the profane with one hand, while the other is holding a middle finger up and waving it at the local libraries “poetry” section.
Scott is on tour and you can check the dates on his Songkick page.
Buy Milk City Sweethearts from Scott’s Bandcamp page.
Words by Matt Miles