Bad Tiger’s “Enough” and Timing

Bad Tiger is a story about timing.

I was impressed beyond belief when I read that San Fran-based Bad Tiger debuted the week lockdown started. Because that one fact tells a story of its own: of pure resilience. I can’t think of much else that would so fully overshadow or outdo something so precious, so personal and humane, besides the pandemic. And as I read and listened to more, I realized Bad Tiger embodies all of what makes love, life, and musicianship, extra difficult and extra magical:

Timing.

Their debut album, The Goat and the Bad Tiger, a down to earth song-and-voice indie piece, showcases the soloist who brought the band to life, frontwoman Yasi Lowy, as she plants an early seed of experimental lyricism (“White Flame” is my favorite). The band’s subsequent EP, two years later, “Sanctuary,” evolves her sound, still quiet but refining, a testament to the resilience of the project.

And then the click: the ’22 single, “Like This,” and the merge of the full band.

The addition of the other three members is like when you give a painter varnish; everything that was fundamentally good now feels expansively wonderful, and the colors at the heart of the band get to shine.

Now, with their most recent single “Enough” to cement the sound, Bad Tiger is fully stationed into indie pop. The band has a tight and cohesive collaboration while still being individually expressionist – David Garges’ creativity on synth, his direction on this song’s clarinet; Tyler Gholson’s bass at the pre-chorus silky and nearly grim, Jacob Sherfield’s drums precise but explosive when just right.

Tires pumping to your place
and I feel my heart will break
just to see this moment pass,
becoming something else.
Some memory that fades with the rest

Lowy’s harmonizes with herself toward the end of the intro verse, a perfect tease for the fullness that builds throughout. She recounts the memory of heartache as she drives to a loved one’s place. Rather than be inundated with what either has done wrong, the next lines invite us into a tension that is fully internal:

I can’t bear to love you this much
when there’s no way not to fuck it up,
there’s no way to thank you enough.

The bass and drums edge up into the pre-chorus as Lowy expresses a heartache based in insecurity, a feeling of being inferior to the love one receives. Ah, the human condition to overthink a good thing. But I can’t help but find it refreshing. Since Billie, Olivia, and Taylor, the art of the break-up song has become Michelangelo-ean. The pop charts are practically an ornate fresco of perfectly harmonized eff-you’s (God bless ’em) and while I’m all about it, this is perfectly Piccaso in its refreshing ability to self-reflect, to be a little new and a little sappy. 

What if I don’t wanna grow anymore?
Haven’t I done enough?

The clarinet and synth that warble around the chorus are magical and addictive, the chorus sweet and a little tired –

to just grow old with you
instead of getting up and leaving to come home to you
if you’re still there?

Even the song itself is about timing. There’s this idea sometimes, right – this would be perfect for me, (if). I would be worthy of this love, of this job, (if). My mom always warned me about living in What-If-World, but it’s pretty tempting. 

Now don’t get me wrong, I love RuPaul, but it can be exhausting hearing the same messaging: “If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?” Sometimes, I feel just how Lowy expresses here: Yea, but what if I don’t wanna grow anymore? “Haven’t I done enough?” 

I’d argue there isn’t any special standard we have to meet to give and receive love, no growth necessary – but simply inevitable – no “Enough” other than what is, and what’s most sincere. The next verse goes on to show the narrator seeking confirmation to keep loving from their tarot deck, a vulnerable and sweet testament to the sides of us that try to rationalize blind faith. But it’s in the instrumental breakdown that follows that the song gets to synthesize and release some of the tension it’s built.

Reminiscent of the brassy breakdowns in Beirut’s “Nantes,” the collision of sound here, with Lowy’s ad-libbing over top, is one of the moments where the music says more than the words can. It’s optimistic, brimming with a careful joy. Yes, the lyrics express discomfort, insecurity, frustration – but how does it sound? 

It sounds hopeful.

It’s comforting to imagine the world like some kinda merit-system, where if I drink my 8 glasses of water and keep my side of the street clean, I’ll spin the wheel and STOP at some guaranteed life event: love, marriage, retirement. But this isn’t the game of Life, it’s frustratingly random – and delightful, and scary – and a lot comes down to timing. And pretty much all of us are gonna have to pony up one day and decide to show up as wretchedly imperfect as we are. To love, to life, to musicianship. And just be thankful of the time we have, of the wild chance these four members of Bad Tiger fell together in this lifetime, and were brave enough to sing about it.

And trust that it’s Enough.