Nashville-based alt-rock outfit Red River Hymn introduces the lyric video, “L’Anguille,” an appetizer for their forthcoming EP, Oakview, slated to drop September 24.
The band explains “L’Anguille” and the video, “This song came to life after writing the hook ‘It just can’t always be c’est la vie.’ This idea weaves its way through the song’s narrative about watching someone you care for making, what you think are, bad life decisions. Trying to empathize, these worries become more of a mirror to your own insecurities and shortcomings. When we decided to do a lyric video for it, we wanted it to have this pensive/reflecting feel to it, reflecting on the song’s message and feel, and put a twist on the typical lyric video. Drawing inspiration from The Replacements ‘The Ledge’ or ‘Bastards of Young’ music videos, we decided to give it an anti-music video style. Typically, lyric videos tend to be repeating graphics. When executed correctly, it can be very effective; with blending in live footage, we thought it could add tension to it. We want the viewer to want to stick around and see if anything happens and to feel that tension. We also wanted to keep the rat character involved to tie into the album concept art, plus it’s just a really comfortable piece of clothing.”
Shot by photographer/album designer Bert White, the animation was handled by Phlecia Sullivan, from the band Year of October.
Describing themselves as a “Sad Southern Rock” group, Red River Hymn’s genesis occurred in 2016, when Patton Hughes (vocals) departed from his former label. Recruiting guitarist Joe Shotts and others, the Red River Hymn took shape, followed by releasing their debut album, Kudzu. After the album dropped, personnel changes took place. The band added Jonathan Mason (bass), and Harris Owens (drums).
“L’Anguille” opens on driving guitars pumping out infectious gritty energy flowing into a potent rhythm riding tight, crunching percussion as a braying organ infuses the tune with swaggering textures. Patton’s edgy, rasping voice imbues the lyrics with alluring pressure and aching timbres.
As the lyrics scroll by in the video, a figure dressed in a rat costume sits on the steps with two-tone glasses, smoking a cigarette, as if waiting for enlightenment from on high.
Thrumming with brawny guitars atop a compelling rhythm, “L’Anguille” narrates a provocative tale of post-break-up relief and unrestrained freedom.