Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Shawn Biggs, Studio Paradiso, San Francisco, California
Young love's often like taffy. It just keeps stretching and stretching, clogging up all thoughts with its grabby stickiness. It just takes over. Imagine an electronic machine kneading the taffy and going completely out of control, producing more and more of the stuff and it swallowing the entire room, suffocating you and getting into your hair and all over your clothes. It's everywhere, but you choose to eat your way out of it usually, getting a bellyache on the stuff, while still finding it to be delicious and not a scenario that you'd ever complain about - not in a million years. The young love that pokes its head into TV Girl songs is something like this uncontrollable taffy. It's unable to be contained, but coming in a few different flavors.
First is the kind that's wanted and unattainable. Then there's the young love that was had ever so briefly and then lost, only to produce the kinds of horrible problems like insomnia or worse - the combination of insomnia and thinking about who that person's kissing right at that very instant instead of you. There are few things that are more torturous than that. Next, there's the young love that happens to make you out to be a despicable guy. It's the kind where you're playing the field more than you should be, testing all of the waters - certainly not so serious about anyone yet cause you're just too damned young. It's here, where you're keeping multiple loves at bay and secreted, where you fall into the variation of love that whips you and leaves a mark.
Lead singer Trung Ngo sings, in this instance, "I don't mean to be cruel/I don't mean to be a bad guy/It's not nothing/But it's not something/Yeah, we had some fun/But it's not something/No, it never was." Telling something such a thing isn't going to go over well, unless you just bite your tongue, say all the right things in-person and save the real feelings for a song such as this one, where you can just let it all out, without the direct possibility of retaliation or rebuttal. Ngo and his bandmate Brad Petering find ways to make all of these somewhat traumatic situations of love not completing itself sound as if they were filled with that sweet grandeur that you miss when it's not around, when things occasionally - only occasionally - get too easy on you.