The beginning is like a dream. There’s a plethora of unique layers going on here.
For starters, the dark, haunting melody. It has an echo, adding a melancholy feel. The depth from that is pretty fantastic. Melodies that carry throughout the rest of the song are my favorite, and that’s what this song accomplishes pretty well. It’s prominent enough to be noticeable.
A commonality in pop is this melody building into something more. “I Love Saturday Night” from Birds of Hell is no exception.
Layers upon layers from Birds of Hell
I love Saturday night, too, so it’s not hard to find an element to relate to. To build off that repeated lyric, being hummed over the first 30 seconds in a buzzing quality, chords march in. Low, symphonic, pleasurable. Smooth in their execution, rich in their layer. The pop vibes kick in around this time.
“Saturday night is when you settle the score” is sang in clarity and the synth changes. From hollow darkness to glowing instrumentals. Everything brightens here. Parts of the music almost shimmer to reflect the brightness of the chorus. These elements of glory don’t distract from that base undertone of darkness. Due as an ode to sketchy nights on the town, there’s something compelling about the composition.
The ending hazes all together, almost like the song is going through a tunnel. This is a cool effect that I think delivers the message in a finishing touch type of way.
Why we love Saturday nights
Birds of Hell chose lyrics that are simple and repetitive. It’s easy for them to get stuck in your head. Not complicated, explicit in detail. Multiple anecdotes of multiple nights are composed into a single product. “I told you I love you / Then you were sick on my shoes” is a kicker. Not only is that a frustrating experience, but the lyric placement is interesting. It’s in a moment of silence. The synth dissipates, only a slight hum of the melody remains.
For pop an indie fans, this is a no-brainer. Genre explorers might take a liking to the experimental elements of “I Love Saturday Night”. After all, who doesn’t?