“Monochrome” is the title track of SWAIN’s upcoming EP that the band will be releasing track by track over the next few months. The new song comes with an artsy new video that can be watched above.
“The pandemic has been very transformative for a lot of people.” – comments the band.
“Prior to Covid we were playing a ton of shows each year and we had just released an album right before shit hit the fan. Suddenly, no more shows, and you’re stuck at home.
In many ways this was an identity crisis. Who are we if not “the guys from Swain“? What do we value? How do we choose to spend our time? And with whom?
Figuring all that out wasn’t easy. And tbh I don’t think anyone ever reaches a conclusion on these things, but the process is generally a lot less abrupt. Some of us got jobs, Boy unfortunately left the band halfway through. But we definitely wanted to make sure we kept writing new music.”
Speaking about the new track, the band continues: “Tracks were written and scrapped, and slowly “Monochrome” emerged. This particular track was written about whatever the hell ‘home’ means. Home can be the van, the place where you work, or the first apartment you move into with your partner right before a lockdown. Home is filled with color, but can also be so dreadfully monochrome at times.
The turbulent nature of the color in our lives was something we wanted to explore in this EP. We really hope you enjoy this tracks and those to come.
We truthfully appreciate everyone sticking around while we continue to figure out “what is Swain“? There’s probably no answer to that, but I guess that’s part of the joy, the struggle, and the mystery of being alive.”
It’s a home, though monochrome, when the years wipe over our undertone. It’s a cradle, so unstable, as the legs unrest on our stones. “Fixed”, don’t get it mixed now, while the years undo our tricks. Under our home, no-monochrome, color comes. Color comes and goes. It’s a haze, It’s comical. A picture perfect cheerful embrace. It’s a crack, ironically a trap, where everything falls out of its place. Goodbye, I’ll wait for the paint to dry, wait for a bluer sky, wait for a home. Under my throne, the color comes, the better ones, we’ll bite our tongues. Color comes and goes. Wait until it shows now. Just take the forever-fountain glow. Let the color, come and grow. It’s a home, still monochrome, after the years wiped over our undertone. Still a cradle, so unstable, as the legs unrest on our stones. Unfixable, it seems so elliptical. feels like a wrecking ball, circling our dome. over this home, so monochrome. Will color come? Is tomorrow done? Will we ever love as well as we bite our tongue?