SOAK Details the Growing Pains That Inspired “if I never know you like this again”

Bridie Monds-Watson discusses the existential dread that inspired each song from their third album, out now via Rough Trade.
Track by Track

SOAK Details the Growing Pains That Inspired if I never know you like this again

Bridie Monds-Watson discusses the existential dread that inspired each song from their third album, out now via Rough Trade.

Words: Margaret Farrell

Photo: Sam Hiscox

May 20, 2022

The third album from SOAK, the brainchild of Irish musician Bridie Monds-Watson, opens with a deep breath. Following their grounding exhale, Monds-Watson reveals intimate vignettes of their life and the wisdom they've accrued with each existential panic or complicated relationship over the course of if I never know you like this again. "Nothing scares me like my irrelevance / That's why I fill every silence with nonsense," they admit early on. It's a funny and misleading introduction to 10 tracks rife with unforgettable one-liners and searing reflections on growing up.

SOAK reunited with longtime collaborator Tommy McLaughlin and drew inspiration from groups like Broken Social Scene, Pavement, and Radiohead to create sprawling, knotted rock compositions that emphasize their affecting vocals. On if I never know you, SOAK gifts us with songs that soundtrack existential dread no matter where we are. "last july" is perfect for blasting at full volume while riding with the windows open as the blazing summer sun sets. The waterfall guitar melody and searching bass line of "pretzel" could soundtrack a long walk as they sing about their quest for home after moving away and trying to find it in the comfort of another. It's easy to imagine searching for one's own new path while listening to an artist candidly divulge their own frustrating pursuit.

if I never know you like this again showcases Monds-Watson's skill as an observant songwriter with balanced judgment. On "baby, you're full of shit," they detail the hypocritical actions of a friend who talks through a concert they're dying to attend and throws trash on the ground while talking about recycling. It begins as a raw, sparse performance with only acoustic trills accompanying grainy vocals. As Monds-Watson begins to turn the lens on themselves, finally acknowledging the cracks in a frail and superficial friendship, drums and stormy electric guitars begin to rev up alongside the relationship's laundry list of issues. "I knew it would make or break me / But what the fuck is this?" they ask toward the track's end. if I never know you like this again is rich with these earnest revelations.

Listen to the album—out today via Rough Trade—below, and read Monds-Watson's breakdown of each song's story.

1. "purgatory"

The fleeting nature of everything is probably the main driving force behind my writing. I collect because I’m afraid to forget. "purgatory" came from a place of existential dread. I felt the pandemic was stealing precious time away from me and I essentially spiraled into reevaluating my entire life. This song is the result of all those questions, without ever really providing any answers.

2. "last july"

"last july" is about pessimism, anticipating the end before it’s even really began. Sometimes I struggle to appreciate the moment I’m in because I’m focusing so hard on storing the mental image. "last july" is about trying to hold onto memories because they’re reliable—you can always visit them again. "If now’s not a good time, then bury me in last July."

3. "bleach"

"bleach" is about missing someone so much you feel as if you’re in two places at once—alone, but with them in thought; present, but in the past. How in that longing, the stupidest of things can trigger a memory. Whilst trying to break free from the nostalgia by reminding myself that no one can be your be all-end all. You need to be able to save yourself first. “She’s not gonna save you from yourself” is the little voice in the back of my head.

4. "get well soon"

I’ve lost a few friends to suicide, and I think that’s instilled this fear of anticipating worst case scenarios. I was trying to honor resilience with the lyric “Nothing can touch us now" as a way of saying, "If this is as bad as it gets, then at least it can’t get worse—the only way is up." My friends and I take a sarcastic, self-deprecating attitude toward ourselves when times get tough, I wanted to reflect that comedic relief with the "Live, love, laugh" line.

5. "red-eye"

Sometimes when life gets tough I fantasize about dropping everything and disappearing. To Los Angeles specifically, in this song. Writing this was an escape in itself, imagining the flight I’d take to get there, the people I’d meet, where I’d go. “I might just find myself on that red-eye" is meant both in the literal sense and also in a somewhat sarcastic, existential, "I might find myself." When I have that urge to disappear I know that, rationally, the urge to return will hit just as hard.

6. "guts" 

"guts" is about bringing the best out of each other. How certain moments and people in our lives have the ability to bring out our best qualities, and momentarily we become the "ultimate versions" of ourselves. Often it’s the less-than-ideal circumstances that encourage us to step up.  

7. "baby, you're full of shit"

I think everyone is a hypocrite to some degree. It’s human nature. In our late teens and twenties we’re all trying to figure out who we are and what we’re about—we try on different outfits, hairstyles, and jokes. I was living in Manchester for the first part of my twenties and thought how much we were all trying was really funny. Trying to be cool, trying to be interesting, trying to be unique. This song is a commentary of that time.

8. "pretzel" 

"pretzel" is about first times. When I wrote it I was only starting to find my feet in a new city, I’d just moved away from home and was trying to make or find a new one.

9. "neptune"

I’d been living away from Ireland for four years when the pandemic hit. I desperately missed my family and friends. I was also only just starting to realize just how much I missed Ireland. "neptune" is an ode to the people and places I missed most; it’s a collage of my favorite memories with them.

10. "swear jar"

"swear jar" is about everything going wrong, a relationship on the rocks, and all the questions that come with it. It’s everything I wanted to ask at the time but was scared to know. Sometimes when things get tough I assume an auto-pilot-like mindset, almost like I’m watching life happen to me rather than interacting. I nearly called the album "where have I been all my life" after this song.