Like a Gift from God or Whatever

Chris Farren writes power pop songs with the energy of someone who has been waiting his whole life to tell you something and is absolutely certain it will land. "Like a Gift from God or Whatever" is relentlessly bright — guitars that chime and push forward, a rhythm section that commits fully, production that wants to reach you across whatever distance separates you from the speakers. The title's hedging qualifier does something important: it holds the grandiosity and the self-deprecation in the same breath, which is exactly the emotional register Farren works in. The song is about being floored by something — a feeling, a person, a moment — and being a little embarrassed by how completely it has knocked you over. The vocals are earnest in a way that emo and pop-punk trained an entire generation to be, but without the weight of teenage anguish; there's something lighter here, more joyful, more willing to look ridiculous in the name of sincerity. It belongs to a tradition of writers who believe that a really well-crafted hook is itself an act of generosity, that making someone feel something physical in their chest is a worthy artistic goal. This is music for the moment a thing you've been hoping for actually happens, for the friend's car with the windows down, for letting yourself be completely, uncoolly happy about something.