One thing to know about Bad Heather: When he’s bored, he is all-caps BORED. No sass or sneer, just bland apathy. The verses of Honest sound like he recorded them while lying down on a pool floatie, smoking a cigarette and scrolling through his Instagram feed. Really, he might as well be napping (“It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been a little wasted,” he half-mumbles), his voice lackadaisical as the drums tick along, as if it were that school clock you stare at waiting for lunch to start. All this to say, it makes the pay-off that much more satisfying. Synths offer mood lighting during the pre-chorus as he starts to stand up and shake off the hangover, insistent on trust: “I’ll wait at your door / All night on your porch.” But the main event is the chorus where Bad Heather’s voice becomes warped in every direction and guitar licks become shreds, brash and barbed wire-sharp until it goes up the next octave like a vape-damaged kazoo. If I listened to this at 15, I probably would’ve become a rockist.
Bad Heather – Honest