If the COVID-19 pandemic brought us the phenomena of ‘quarantine albums’, then perhaps the next logical step for artists is the ‘post-lockdown rebound’. Celebrating sweet release from isolation - especially through music - is as human as anything. By now, anyone reading this is likely to have experienced at least one concert since restrictions were lifted on social gatherings. No one is pretending that the pandemic never happened; we’re all due for a little fun, but when our lives-refreshed tire us out and bring us back to bed every night, some are still left feeling the inertia of isolation’s stress. It lays down atop you like one too many sheets on a hot night without end.

It can also manifest in similarly predictable ways. For those that feel it, it can start as a familiar twinge creeping on - worries over getting sick, knowing others out there are hospitalized, or worse. Those feelings show up when it gets quiet again, when you go home to the same room you were stuck in for months on end, when the concerts are over and the band leaves town with masks and flyers like autumn litter. Music can help drown that stress out, or cathartically amplify it, and both modes have their place. Just as there’s space for all the celebration in the world, there’s equal parts room for introspection for a recent past that’s particularly rough for many people. The Last Thing Left, while often sounding as joyful as can be, fills in all that quiet space for those still working on their comeback.  

There’s nothing deceptive about Say Sue Me’s sound. When it’s happy, you know it - anything otherwise is pretty clear, too. They can be ‘cloying’ by their own admission (their own Bandcamp page uses the word to describe track 3 ‘Around You’). By genre, you’ll find Say Sue Me listed as jangle or surf pop - surfgaze, if we’re going by ‘vibes’. You could call it dream pop, if you want to start getting more precise… however precise dreams could possibly be. I’ve even seen ‘twee’ floated by some, and I’d be lying if I said TLTL didn’t remind me of Camera Obscura’s Let’s Get Out of This Country on my first listen. Say Sue Me is clearly reminiscent of 00s indie rock, but also carries the very-90s torch for bands like Yo La Tengo. This is not to be dismissive of how people describe these songs, but it is more than likely that if you’ve enjoyed this album, then you certainly ‘get’ the sound they’re going for. 

I myself knew nothing about Say Sue Me prior to the release of The Last Thing Left. I listened to the entire album in one sitting, and by the end I found myself pleased, but confused as to why it resonated so strongly. Here was an album that was simultaneously unique and familiar all at once, with genre conventions that felt cozy despite an undeniably somber undertone throughout. As much as I love dream pop, a lot of it can be in one ear and out the other for me - and “not-completely-forgettable” isn’t exactly the best metric for gauging an album’s worth. I knew there was something more here.

It took me a few subsequent listens to better understand what I heard past the music itself, and I don’t believe that it was something I would have picked up on quickly before the events of the last three years. It was like that lingering, post-stress aftershock was given form, a sensation like remembering something missing after moving on - it’s the musical equivalent of leaving your favorite shirt at your ex’s house. Yet while the music could be melancholy, it never bummed me out. It was the kind of relatability that I didn’t know I needed. The more I listened, the more I realized this album resonates so naturally because everything comes from the same, strange in-between place that many people live in now - and that place is just as worthy of remembrance and celebration as any other subject. 

The Last Thing Left can sound quite happy for being written in a world where looming death is omnipresent. The unfortunate passing of Say Sue Me’s original drummer, Semin Kang, had an obvious impact on everything from the lyrics to the band’s literal sound. Diving back through their discography after finding this year’s release reveals an interesting, sometimes painful story involving the band’s approach to losing one of their founding members. His accident and untimely death came as an unfortunate overture to a pandemic hitting their hometown of Busan. Despite a wealth of accolades following their success at the Korean Music Awards and a growing audience both home and abroad, Kang’s death followed cruelly, and quickly. If Say Sue Me called it quits, absolutely nobody would have blamed them.

But they didn’t stop. Their personal story is admirable, but to have self-produced one of 2022’s most genuine, heartfelt, and well-crafted albums on top of everything is astounding. They made it through, and in doing so, their art validates those who are trying their best to just do the same. Still, The Last Thing Left is far more than the usual story of resilience forging great art. It isn’t simply a matter of the right music, at the right time either necessarily; it’s a testament to Say Sue Me’s ability as artists to produce music with such specific-yet-ubiquitous appeal. It’s past a point of mourning, yet doesn’t ignore what happens next. This album speaks for people who are moving on, but not forgetting. It synthesizes difficult feelings for complicated times, without shying away from the more intimate elements of accepting loss or facing change. 

It’s only human to struggle reckoning with all that happened while the world fell apart. Life only slowed despite what seemed like a screeching halt. Reconciling that unstoppable force with how you’re allowed to still take your own time with everything can prove mortally difficult. At first glance, it’s paradoxical; you’re running out of time, but only you can sort out how to spend what time is left. Grief came to the forefront of an entire generation’s communal mind for the first time and at a time where lashing out and living free felt right, we were all told to sit down and be quiet for the greater good. The Last Thing Left is evidence enough that those still processing it all are not strange, and are certainly not alone, even when left behind by those whose time had come too soon.   

Approaching grief by understanding its common stages is helpful, but I’ve always had trouble believing the process ends with acceptance. The only word I have for what comes next is ‘wistfulness’. It is bittersweet being able to live on where others could not, and while the intensity of sadness over loss certainly dulls over time, it never really goes away - understanding that it shouldn’t go away is the inevitable conclusion of wistfulness. Beyond writing about the art I really like, I often discuss disability and people dealing with chronic illness. For a non-significant group of people (over a quarter of the US population is believed to have some form of disability, according to the CDC) the pandemic never really ended. There is a very real part of everything we’ve been through that may very well never go away, sometimes in extreme and tangible ways. 

When some of our loved ones didn’t make it out alive, things like marketable-relatable pandemic pop can feel cramped and empty all the same - just like home, in the very worst ways. Rearrange the furniture and you’ll maybe find there’s room for everything, and Say Sue Me’s songs have their place on the shelf. The Last Thing Left is music for a world gone wistful, where the present is allowed to be slowed by the past, but only if those memories grant guidance for wherever we’re headed.