Idiot

The guitar comes in already distorted past the point of politeness, and the song never really retreats from that edge — there's a brashness to the production that's almost confrontational, but Williams wraps it in a melody sweet enough to blunt the impact. Wavves have always been good at this trick: hiding something genuinely catchy inside a cloud of noise, making you work slightly harder to hear the tune and rewarding you when you do. His vocal delivery here leans into a particular register of self-aware self-deprecation, the kind that's too specific to be fishing for reassurance — this sounds like someone who has genuinely catalogued their own failures and found the list funny, or at least bearable, which is its own kind of resilience. The rhythm section is deceptively propulsive, the drums hitting harder than the lo-fi aesthetic might suggest, keeping the song moving even when the guitars are trying to bury everything in static. There's a lineage here running through Dinosaur Jr. and early Pavement, the tradition of melodic guitar music that refuses to clean itself up. Sonically this belongs to a specific California coastal atmosphere — not the polished image, but the actual version with sun-bleached everything and an underlying aimlessness that the bright light can't quite fix. It's a song for the end of a mediocre day that you're choosing to call fine anyway.