Thanks Dad by The Gene

They were very old friends and they had talked of having a band for so many years and they sometimes made things but mostly they had parties and adventures and long wild nights. One day they found themselves in a living room and it was scary outside and they were getting old so they stayed inside and played and these sounds were what came out, strange creaturely squeals and brawling licks and songs for what felt like the end times.

There was a debate on the television then. A grotesque figure loomed behind a woman they had never had much love for but now it was just all so wrong. Snippets of evil speech crept out and into their songs, investments, beautiful pieces of property.

Now they are stuck inside again but far away from each other. Everyone is stuck inside and we know this anxiety all too well, this sloppy synth is the way our brain sounds in the morning when we decide if it’s worth putting on pants today. His voice is still on the television, every day now and more and more, the evil no longer looms in the background but is the room tone, the city drone a little quieter now that the planes and trains are gone.

And then you step outside for a moment, into the less-filthy air. Birds chirp, even if they’re only a toy whistle. You’re still alive, friend.

It’s hard to say when The Gene was born: was it in a dorm room in 2001? A backyard in 2006? A living room in 2016? A quarantine in 2020? You might say The Gene has been there all along, the monkey on your shoulder, the sweet unwinding at the end of the day. Or you might say The Gene is the brainchild of guitarist Dani Neff and cellist Meaghan Burke, bred between Austin and NYC.