REVIEW: Drunk at the Library – where do you see yourself in 60 years, do you see yourself helping me out of the bath?
Author’s note: Will Wellington, frontman and lyricist of Drunk at the Library, and former contributor for The Ontarion, reviewed my high school band’s debut EP in 2015 and was one of our most enthusiastic and earliest supporters. It gives me immense pleasure to do the same.
It is rare for a band to be capable of demonstrating the songwriting and sonic craftsmanship necessary to evoke such lucid feelings as are present on where do you see yourself in 60 years, do you see yourself helping me out of the bath? by Guelph indie-rockers, Drunk at the Library (DATL).
So begins the saga of 60 years with the track, “Throwing Stones,” wherein our narrator finds themselves atomized to the point of a mental breakdown, running into traffic and throwing rocks at strangers. Earnest and triumphant, the song’s narrator asks another equally-atomized character, “Where do you see yourself in 60 years, do you see yourself helping me out of the bath?” The lyrics beckon — nay, beg — for affirmation and a return to the security of a simpler era (perhaps childhood). The next song, “Bodies,” answers this call with half-remembered, half-imagined memories of camp cabins and a tale of finding a dead body reminiscent of Stand By Me. Potentially a meditation on the disfiguring effect of aging (and the loss of innocence), the song captures the singular, transitional moment of one’s sexual self-discovery with visceral and haunting honesty.
The embarrassment and self-consciousness of “Bodies” is translated into financial woes with “Nothing in my Pocket,” when the narrator juxtaposes a sort of youthful freedom against the oppressive landscape of the Guelph economy’s satellite status to the GTA. The narrator stands in disbelief of “having made it this far on a mostly-empty tank,” as the band and a chorus of similarly-disillusioned voices coo in unison to portray a kind of solidarity among the mostly-broke youth of the city.
The final two tracks on the record act as a testament to the resilience of a generation. “40 Below” pays tribute to the brave “pencil skirts and polos” on an ice-cold night outside of Trapper’s Alley. It is at this point that the narrator admits to their lover that “we’re closer than we’ve ever been.” Impressively, however, the last song, “The Answer,” backtracks on the heady revelations on earlier songs and provides levity to the final moments of the EP, admitting that “maybe the punchline is that,” despite however many experiences one encounters throughout life (and spiritual advisors consulted), “there’s nothing to get.”
60 years achieves a surprising amount of textural depth as lyricist Will Wellington’s tales of loneliness, heartbreak, transcendence, and mischief abound. The songs do what only great songwriting can do: create a rich landscape within which listeners can project their own experiences while hinting at the specific and personal resonance for the author, hidden just below the surface. Offering a panoramic view of living in the Royal City as a twenty-something-year-old, a surprising amount of ground is captured in so few songs. Featuring the airy guitar of Trevor Cooke, rocksteady beats of Sarah Becker, perfectly-executed sonic flourishes of Caitlin Digby, and hearty basslines of Laura Rutty, DATL cuts through the same-old output of a tired indie genre to offer a fresh and dynamic view of young adulthood.