Those already aware of him will know that Dave Hause has been quietly staking a claim as one of America’s most brilliant songwriters. He’d never admit that, of course—his personality is one of humble modesty, not overwrought hubris. It’s the same for his songs, too. While Hause—who hails from Philadelphia originally, but now resides in Santa Barbara—is quite capable of writing perfect sing-along anthems with gang vocals, he’s equally versed in tender nuance.
Both are on full display on Drive It Like It’s Stolen, Hause’s sixth solo album, which he’s termed as “post-apocalyptic Americana.” A set of gorgeous, moody, dark songs, they paint a picture of a dystopian near-future that, of course, really serves more as an accurate depiction of the times we’re living in. Whether that’s the portentous, scene-setting opener of “Cheap Seats (New Years Day, NYC, 2042),” or the urgent, soaring melody of the grief-stricken “Damn Personal,” or the wistful lifetime reminiscences of “Tarnish,” or the overwhelming emotion of “chainsaweyes,” or the dark-night road trip glowering escapism of “Pedal Down,” Stolen is a heartbreaking journey—but one that inspires as it tears you apart by revealing the sad, broken state of this bruised, broken nation and the bruised, broken people who call it home.
Through its 10 songs, Hause shines a light on the stories that don’t often get told—scenes that capture the trials, tribulations, fears, and wonders of parenthood, the struggles of a working and middle class that’s been abandoned and forgotten by the neoliberal elite, the comfort of solidarity and friendship, the terrors of the modern world. In this candid track-by-track breakdown, Hause guides us through all this and more as the journey unfolds down the uncertain road of modern life. Stream the full album below, and read on for Hause’s words.
1. “Cheap Seats (New Years Day, NYC, 2042)”
In 2022, the American cities felt like we were living in the prequel to 12 Monkeys. In 20 more years, with all of the chaos and technology they’ll bring, we might be living in a Blade Runner dystopia. I might want to be out in the countryside by then, away from it all. Might be time to head that way now.
2. “Pedal Down”
When the hallucinogens kick in that we took during “Cheap Seats,” and we’re heading out to the country, things start getting shaky. We’re on the run, it was time to go, but it’s starting to set in that whatever we’re running from might catch up at some point. Our American gods have been made clear; hard work, profit, and guns—and like most gods, they demand sacrifice. No one is immune to it, so will my children be among those we sacrifice? Will yours? Was this all just a big, bad idea to bring innocent children into this chaos? Is Canada going to let us in? What kind of gods do they worship up there? I don’t really want to leave, and don’t really want to stay. We can grieve it later, keep the pedal down.
3. “Damn Personal”
If you’re lucky, you live long enough to start losing people you love. Sometimes the only way through all of that is to wail a little bit together.
4. “Low”
That first blush of attraction can last for a while. The butterflies in the stomach, the endless, starry-eyed conversations, the longing when you’re apart, the long, lusty nights, each person putting their best foot forward—it sure makes for a magical time. But at the end of the day, the gnawing question ends up being, “Will you love me when I’m low?”
5. “chainsaweyes”
To a hammer, every problem is a nail. To a chainsaw, every problem can be chopped down, can be ripped apart. Are we so surprised that we end up in the messes we’re in when we keep giving men prone to tantrums the top positions?
6. “Hazard Lights”
This is a snapshot of a moment, that feeling of purgatory—the in-between. You know where you came from, you’ve just barely made it to where you are, and you’re so uncertain of what is up the road that you’re taking a pause. Just a few minutes to breathe. You’re pulled over on the side of the road, trying to calm down the nervous system and plot a course forward. You’re sweating it out, with the hazard lights on.
7. “Drive It Like It’s Stolen”
Try as I might, I can’t get the balance right. When that balance eludes, you often end up feeling like you’re behind schedule, like you’re on borrowed time. Once that sinks in, can’t it be said that everything we own and want and need is all just sort of borrowed? And isn’t there a fine line between borrowed and stolen?
8. “lashingout”
Sure, we all feel like lashing out, but who are we to feel this way? Don’t we have it pretty good? If we end up lashing out, who gets attacked? Who’s going to bear the brunt? Is there anything actually righteous in that anger, or do we all have seeds of the serial killer, the school shooter, and the gangster tangled into our internal gardens?
9. “Tarnish”
I had kids later in life, and it turns out kids ask an awful lot of questions. Sooner or later I’m gonna have some explaining to do for the four decades of living I did before they showed up on the scene, and I sure hope when they hear the answers, they take it easy on me.
10. “The Vulture”
You never know which attributes get passed down to the next generation, and if you’re not careful, you end up worrying an awful lot about what the future might hold for your children. At a certain point, the anxiety becomes something you can’t quite chase away, so you learn to live with it. You learn to manage it. It becomes the stones of your stream, part of the bedrock of how you interact with the world. I’ll likely always stay somewhat worried, and they’ll likely stay worried—the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Most of what we’ll worry about won’t come true anyway… Life is but a dream.
