Way Too Much

Anxiety rarely sounds this melodically generous, but that tension — between how good the hook feels and how trapped the narrator sounds — is exactly what makes this song work. The guitars are bright and chiming at the surface, running a riff that lodges immediately in the front of your skull, but underneath them sits a churning unease, a low rhythmic pressure that keeps the song from ever fully relaxing into its own catchiness. Williams's voice carries genuine strain here, pitched slightly higher than his comfort zone, which gives the delivery an unintentional rawness that no amount of studio polish could fake. The lyrics circle a state of total overwhelm — not dramatic collapse but the quieter, more grinding version, where everything is simply too much and you can't explain to anyone else why. The song understands that this particular feeling is hard to justify from the outside, that it looks like nothing and feels like everything. The production on "V" generally leans cleaner than earlier Wavves records, and here that clarity works against the narrator, making the anxiety more exposed, less protected by noise. It's the kind of song you find yourself returning to not because it makes you feel better but because it makes you feel accurately seen in a moment when you're convinced no one could possibly understand what's happening inside your head.