The Exhilarating Tenderness of “Bodys” by Car Seat Headrest
I think I should begin by admitting that I have never written a proper media review before and my criteria for music are often limited to ‘songs I love’ and ‘songs I don’t love as much’. I am decently capable of identifying musical instruments and although it is quite hard for me to differentiate between music genres, I am familiar with an acceptable amount of them. What I am trying to say is that I am in no shape or form a music expert. The only reason why I feel qualified enough to even attempt writing about music is that because when I like a song, I like it deeply. I recite the lyrics with great conviction, memorise all the quirks of the instrumental, play it over and over again, and share it with my loved ones. In this article, I am going to tell you about one of my deeply loved songs, why it is so dear to me, and why I believe it could become dear to you, too. Let me introduce you to ‘Bodys’ by Car Seat Headrest, a 7-minute-long powerful indie rock track.
The first time I heard this song was in the kitchen of a hostel that was located in the heart of a big, big city. A conglomeration of luck and common curiosity had brought me and a bunch of people my age to a place that, for the few days we spent there, felt magical. I was seventeen, in a city that was not mine, surrounded by a swarm of voices, in a kitchen that was so small it could barely contain all the people to whom the voices belonged. And yet we all fit, sharing the warmth of the last weeks of summer, feeling it slide down our skin. It seemed to be making us softer, transforming our flesh into clay, so whenever we hugged or touched we were unintentionally shaping each other, leaving dents in each other’s bodies; little dents which, at that time, felt perennial. The murmur of dozens of stories being told simultaneously was suddenly interrupted interfered with by the start of a song and the enthusiastic dancing of some of the people there. You’ve guessed it - it was “Bodys ”
I watched them jump as they sang to each other, dancing so freely and yet so attentively, aware of one each other’s another’s movements. Their unintentional performance was symbiotic chaos. The song was upbeat and noisy, a noise that materialised in the way their arms were turning into squiggly lines and their upper body followed the guidance of their legs. I smiled as I witnessed their dance and realised I had never allowed my then-insecure and shy body to move like that. When I was invited to dance, I confessed my cluelessness – “How do you dance like that?” , I asked. And as they guided me and held my hands, I followed.
It was not until months later that I rediscovered the song and thought back to that moment, to that instant that I remembered and sweet memory that I carried with me so dearly; to the grandiosity of every feeling, every touch; to how they all got magnified and celebrated between those walls and newly found friends. It is no surprise, then, that now I cannot think of this song as anything other than a love song dedicated to friendship and the awkwardness that comes with sharing the experience of youth with others. I must confess I have a tendency to over-romanticise fond memories, and the short story I’ve just told you is definitely a result of this habit of mine, especially considering that since I was 17 when I experienced it. Regardless, I stand my ground that this song is the best for i-want-to-dance-with-my-friends-forever parties or solitary dance sessions. Let us press an imaginary ‘play’ button and begin the journey this song entails. The 53 seconds of instrumentals that precede the beginning of the lyrics inevitably get your body moving and allow you will urge you to rush from the bathroom or the balcony to wherever the first notes of the song might be playing from. T he lyrics begin with an endearingly realistic and genuine line that seems to belong to a slightly uncomfortable yet charming interaction:
That’s not what I meant to say at all
I mean, I’m sick of meaning
I just wanna hold you
This urge for touch and innocent intimacy sets the tone for the message of the rest of the song: in case of uncertainty and insecurity, let’s dance together, let’s hold each other . The rest of the verses also have a conversational feeling to them, with most of the lines being sung in a speech-like manner, which allows the song to be enacted through one’s own gestures and facial expressions:
I would speak to you in song
But you can’t sing
As far as I’m aware
Though everyone can sing
As you are well aware
As the instrumental becomes increasingly layered and noisy and the beat accelerates, the chorus, which I would say is my favourite bit of the song, approaches. With a clumsiness that might be caused by butterflies as well as various substances, the singer stammers:
Those are… you’ve got some nice shoulders
I’d like to put my hands around them
I’d like to put my hands around them!!!!!!
What a genius lyric! One aspect of the song that makes it so special and unique is the way in which it refers to bodies. I’ve always thought that the majority of songs that are made to dance to talk about bodies in an objectifying and purely sexual manner that often feels exclusive exclusionary - it is as if only bodies that fit into an established standard norm deserve to experience and relate to the fun, freedom, or even sensuality that come from dancing. In my opinion, “Bodys” breaks with that. By complimenting the addressee’s shoulders rather than other body parts that are associated with dominant beauty standards, the singer celebrates bodies and touch in an emancipatory and tender way. Shoulder holding becomes a delicate yet oh-so-powerful declaration of closeness, even if temporary, and shoulders themselves a symbol of the beauty of inhabiting a body. When I sing these lyrics to and with my friends, and they put their arms around my shoulders, I feel the gentle weight of their love upon them.
Friendship is continuously celebrated in this ode to togetherness, which becomes obvious in the third verse. After singing about stolen alcohol and the angels and devils on people’s shoulders who are, in fact, ‘just two normal people’, the singer goes ‘oooh’ and then repeatedly gives a shoutout to the people he’s partying with:
These are the people that I get drunk with
These are the people that I fell in love with
The song goes on and, after a spoken expression of carelessness (“Well, so what? We’re young”), we enter the second half of the song where fear and insecurity become more present, just as they inevitably do during youth. The singer desperately exclaims:
Don’t you realise our bodies could fall apart at any second?
I am terrified your body could fall apart at any second
After this, shoulders are celebrated again in a mixture of uncertainty and desire. Now, the bridge:
And I know that I don't talk a lot
But I know that you don't care a lot
As long as we move our bodies around a lot
We'll forget that we forgot how to talk
When we dance
The bridge is the quiet before the storm, the transition into the summit of the song. The suggestion of dancing as the cure for doubt is followed accordingly by a musical encouragement to do so. Layers and layers of sounds and statements overlap - some terrified, some embarrassed, some full of love. With the singer's strong vocals in the background, the chaos and euphoria of this part loyally simulate the messiness of parties, often a consequence of one too many beers or the rush of pure love for your dance partners running through your blood. One final “I’m sick of meaning, I just wanna hold you” puts an end to the grand sonic and lyrical entanglement, and with that, the song is finished .
As I warned you at the beginning of the article, this has clearly not been a musically informed review of “Bodys” by Car Seat Headrest and some of my interpretations of the lyrics are undoubtedly biased and influenced by the memories that I associate this song with. I don’t think this a weakness, though. On the contrary, I think all the different ways in which this song (or any song, really) can be shared and shaped is what makes it so special, genuine, cathartic. I love this song because it allows me to declare my trust, love, and gratitude to my friends every time we move our bodies to it together. I invite you to do the same. Choose a song (maybe even this one). Make it yours. Sing it to your friends. Dance. Put your hands around their shoulders.
Image: Carme Ferrando Soriano
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