There’s always something a little shocking about finding out that that brooding indie rock band you’ve recently gotten into has gained an enormous Twitter following seemingly more through shitposting than through the appeal of their devastating lyrical themes. It’s kinda the inverse of this situation sitting down with the new EP from Whitmer Thomas, the comedian/musician/big baby whose songwriting has always been an extension of his comedic persona. Yet Can’t Believe You’re Happy Here instead plays out like an earnest collection of songs penned by someone whose brain clearly operates like that of a comedian, spelling out the hysterically relatable imagery of scoping out booths at Applebee’s and flipping through their questionably sticky menus, or observing the careless nature of a gaggle of Trevors, while the music often takes the form of the playful looseness of a group like Half Japanese.
Meanwhile, the tracks are also bolstered by an A-list set of collaborators, from the musical talents of the record’s producer Melina Duerte (a.k.a. Jay Som) and guest vocalists Christian Lee Hutson and Great Grandpa’s Al Menne, to Thomas’ comedian partner Mitra Jouhari—often masking the fact that the duets on here are, frankly, kind of ridiculous. Anchored by a genuinely moving eulogy to a fellow comedian, the whole EP feels like an extension of that song’s contemplation of “how to grieve a person who would make fun of you for grieving them,” more broadly mulling over how to earnestly document life experiences in a world that’s so full of absurdities.
To take us deeper into these busy tunes, Thomas broke down the EP track-by-track for us. Hear the whole thing below, and read on for his words.
1. “Trevor”
When I first started doing comedy I got stuck in a room with Norm Macdonald. He asked me how long I’d been doing it, and I told him one year. He said that this would be the best time of my life. I was broke and my personal life was in shambles, but he was absolutely right. I know that if 20-year-old me saw me now he’d think I made it, but that was the best it ever was. Also, I met three guys in Santa Barbara who were all named some version of Trevor. They were just happy, cool guys with sun-kissed hair and abs. I want some of whatever juice they’re drinking. Living in the present really isn’t my style.
2. “Going Out to Eat”
My favorite thing in the world is going to a restaurant and talking shit with my pals. Just wanted to write a novelty song with a bluegrass solo. I made a friend in Christian Lee Hutson and forced his ass to do a duet with me on this one. We’ve been out to eat a bunch since. I cherish these moments.
3. “Don’t Have a Cow”
I’ve never been in a breakup that was a big explosion—“I’m never talking to you again” kind of situation. I’ve never heard a song about what it’s like to break up after things fizzle out. It’s sad to love someone, watch things slip, and go your separate ways. You look back and only remember the good times. Maybe that’s alright.
4. “Best Love Song”
Mitra and I wrote this together. It’s a prank, really. Just wanted to trick a crowd into thinking it will be a sincere love song. In a way it’s about codependency and losing yourself in a relationship and whatever goes with that. But really it’s an excuse for us to write a song about people who don’t really understand what a car is. Al Menne’s voice really elevates it. If you don’t listen close you wou might not catch how dumb it is.
5. “Can’t Believe You’re Happy Here”
I have a rough time getting to sleep. I watch those countdown, WatchMojo-style vids to hypnotize me out of whatever varying version of spinning out I’m experiencing in the middle of the night. I’d jealously listen to Mitra breathing peacefully, sleeping harder than I probably ever will, and get annoyed. One night I looked in the mirror and realized that maybe it’s cool that Mitra doesn’t mind me watching these annnoying-ass videos about the 10 most fucked-up Joker moments in the middle of the night. She doesn’t care that I don’t know any big words and I listen to “Dumpweed” at full blast every morning to make coffee. I’m a lucky guy in all kinds of ways. Kind of like, “Holy hell, I can’t believe it but I think I’m happy.”
6. “What a Pal”
A pal named Richard Bain died in May 2020. We’d do little memorial hangs for him in parks, all of us laughing trying to figure out how to grieve a person who would make fun of you for grieving them. It obviously made me miss my friends and my life even more. That’s not unique—it was a miserable time for everyone, but losing someone like Richard sure as hell caused a ton of introspection. Even as things start to get back to some version of normal, it’s strange not having him around. He was a hilarious comedian who’d always make whatever show he was on more interesting. A constant reminder to have fun and goof off more. I’ll miss him.
