The Story Behind Every Song On Squirrel Flower’s New Album Planet (i)
“Hey, sorry, I have peanut butter toast in my mouth,” Ella Williams, AKA Squirrel Flower, says when she picks up my call in early June. We’re about to dive into Planet (i), her third record, but first I want to clear up where she’s based. Williams was born in Massachusetts, lived in Iowa, and moved to Chicago at some point, but I wasn’t sure if she identified any of these as home.
“Yeah,” she says with a laugh. “It’s the eternal question… for me as well.” She goes on a spiel about the aforementioned states and cities, including scattered years of touring and months of recording in other countries. She ends with saying: “I feel like I’ll be like this for a while, just wanting to move around and not stay in one place for like five years or something.”
This feeling of freedom drifts through Planet (i). Partially written during the pandemic, the album captures the human need to experience life and nature. When Williams was looking for a producer, she spoke with Ali Chant in Bristol over the phone and shared a “really strong creative connection” with him. “Obviously it felt weird and kind of impossible to go fly to England during the pandemic,” she says, “But then the next week I actually got COVID. I healed from it in like two weeks, and was like, I have these antibodies that are allowing me to travel in a way that feels a little safer and little more responsible. So I said fuck it and went.”
Planet (i) follows her Polyvinyl debut, I Was Born Swimming, as well as last year’s stunning single “Take It Or Leave It” and the Caroline Polachek cover “So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings,” which became her most popular song. The singles from Planet (i) hinted at a more defined sound for Squirrel Flower; “Hurt A Fly” and “Flames And Flat Tires” both held a breezy brand of indie rock and vivid, intense lyricism in a fascinating tension. The entire album takes this and runs with it, into deserts and car crashes and nostalgia and tornadoes. Williams led us through the wreckage track-by-track below.
1. “I’ll Go Running”
ELLA WILLIAMS: I wrote this in a burst of anger. You know when you’re having a horrible time mentally and someone’s just like, ‘Just go for a run! You’ll feel better if you just go run for a run!’ And I was like, fuck you! I don’t want to have to go for a stupid, little run just to feel better about things. That first line, “I’ll go running/ Let my hair down,” came out of frustration with not a person but just everything.
The song developed into this look at what it’s like to be perceived in general as an artist. It’s something I find challenging sometimes — pressure to be new and make art that you think people will want to hear and people not necessarily listening with care and interpreting it in ways that are different from what I initially intended. Which, of course, is something that just happens when you’re an artist and a musician and making things and sharing them. It’s sort of just up for total interpretation and it can be amazing but also really hard.
Are the lyrics out of spite?
WILLIAMS: Yeah, I think so. [Laughs] They’re out of spite, and not necessarily me being like, I’m actually gonna do these things. It’s kind of sarcastic, but also maybe not.
I didn’t think of it that way at all, which I guess just proves the ideas in the song. I just thought it was really interesting to start a record with a song about being reborn.
WILLIAMS:I think the more time I spent with the song, the more it turned into a genuine sentiment. It turned from this pissed-off, sarcastic, spiteful thing into a song about creative rebirth. In a lot of ways, I do feel that way about this album. That’s pretty amazing to me how a song can completely change meaning throughout time.
Do you think that being perceived as an artist is a double-edged sword?
WILLIAMS:Yeah. Definitely. It’s amazing to share music and parts of your personality for people and playing shows and meeting people who like the music and identify with it. There’s nothing like that. It’s incredibly special. But it’s just, I think, a bizarre thing. It’s not like I woke up one day and was like, “I want to be a musician, I’m gonna write this music and I want to be famous.” [Laughs] That’s never ever been what my MO is. So to balance this thing that I do because it’s just part of me and part of my life with promotion and the various aspects of promoting and everything that comes with that… it’s both incredible and also just weird, sometimes.
I feel really privileged to be able to do interviews and talk about my music. It’s like, wow, people care. The fact that people care at all is fucking amazing. I think that makes up for the times that it seems like people are irreverent towards something very vulnerable.
2. “Hurt A Fly”
WILLIAMS:“Hurt A Fly” is definitely a sarcastic song that never turned into something genuine for me. I just wanted to write a song from the perspective of fuckboys that I met. I feel like there are at least 10 people from my past and present who I wrote into this song. I just wanted to see how it felt to do that and write from someone else’s perspective and just think about accountability as well. It’s someone trying to skirt completely around accountability and just be subtly gaslighting their way out of a situation where they did something bad.
It’s such a tragically relatable song.
WILLIAMS: I feel like it is unfortunately such a universal thing — romantically, but also, over the past like six years, just dudes in the scene. Dudes in bands doing fucked up shit and making excuses for being toxic and their male friends not doing anything about it so it falls on women and queer people to clean it up and deal with the shit that happens.
3. “Deluge In The South”
WILLIAMS:“Deluge In The South” is about finding trinkets and reminders of old life in a flood. It’s sort of about the way that we need water and the way water can destroy things. You’re so thirsty that you’re gulping it out of somebody’s gutter, but also there’s a dead bird in the water and cars floating in the water. In my mind, it’s a song that takes place in this weird future after a huge storm.
These images feel very dreamlike. How’d you come up with them?
WILLIAMS:I honestly don’t know. [Laughs] Some of this shit is shit I’ve seen and the images are from memory. I did want it to feel dreamlike and like a Miyazaki movie, specifically Spirited Away, like the train that goes through the water. But I actually saw shit like that in person when I was on tour. I was driving through Missouri after huge floods and the highway was right next to this train track and the trains would go through and literally be making waves because there was so much flooding. There’d be billboards rising out of the water. I can’t even say it’s only about these fictional things, because it’s something that I’ve seen that really stuck with me that felt like a dream when I was in it.
Why do you think you used those memories as inspiration for this record?
WILLIAMS: Just because it really moved me, I think. I keep a lot of notebooks and the songs that I write come out of the notebooks a lot of the time. I go through and see things that I’ve written. Or if there’s a specific moment that really moved me, I take an iPhone voice memo recording on the spot.
I got some country vibes from this track. Were you listening to country while making this record?
WILLIAMS: Totally. I was listening to a ton of country while I was writing the songs. I wrote the more country-inspired songs first, in the summer of 2019. I was listening to a ton of Lucinda Williams’ very first album, Townes Van Zandt, and Emmylou Harris. I love old country, and by “old” I mean not country-pop. There’s something about it that’s so simple musically a lot of the time and simple lyrically as well, but it’s either describing a scene in really visual detail or describing a feeling with as few words as possible. I think there’s something really incredible about that and I wanted to try and embody that in some of the songs. Just lean into simplicity and try to weave a song that says something without explicitly saying it.
The lyrics also gave me a savior complex vibe.
Yeah. With the lines like “I will take you in/ Wrap you up again,” “Oh, you pulled a thread/ Now, let me unravel it,” and “I tried the best I could/ To paint the house and forgive you.” There’s a really interesting dynamic.
WILLIAMS: Yeah. I feel like those lines are about the push and pull of a relationship — being a caretaker versus being someone who’s trying to forget about someone or forgive a horrible thing that happened and do it through a mundane task of painting a house or painting over something.
The repetition of that last line, “Nothing seems to do the trick,” is really sad.
WILLIAMS: I love repetition. I feel like it’s something that comes up a lot in my songs. It’s something I use a lot to hit a point home. When you find a line that says what you want to say, there’s no need to say something else. I just like leaning into these lines that feel powerful and repeating them over and over again.
4. “Big Beast”
WILLIAMS: [Laughs] I wanted this song to be insane, and I think it ended up being totally fucked — in a good way! The first half of it is just, in my mind, a very pastoral, mid-summer song. It’s a depiction of me driving in my massive van, which I love a lot, and just seeing the world through my guitar really, being on tour. Then, looking into the sun and burning your eyes and having a complete dissociative freakout about the sun and storm clouds and lightning and thunder and weather apocalypse. With the last half of the song, I was trying to embody the fear that I feel when I see shit like that.
There was one specific time, I think it was this past summer in July. My mom and I were just driving around for something to do during the pandemic shit. The sky was clear except for this one really, really huge, really dark cloud, and it was all tied up with lightning. There was lightning around it and in it but not outside of it. We pulled over in this field and stared at it for a while. I think that’s the feeling I wanted to capture with the song — with the second half of the song. Being in complete awe and terror of the biggest thing you’ve ever seen. You don’t know how big it actually is, but you know it’s the most powerful thing you’ve ever seen.
I noticed that looking into the sun is a motif on this record. What inspired that?
WILLIAMS: I immediately go back to being a kid. I was actually really terrified of the sun as a child. My mom tells me I would look at the sun and just start freaking out and yelling, “There’s a ball of fire coming at me!” [Laughs] And I guess it was. So I was thinking about that memory as a kid, just being totally freaked out but also in awe of this ball of fire. And honestly, the past couple of years, I’ve been totally fucked up about what you find on the internet when you image search “the sun.” People don’t talk about that. It’s fucking insane! It’s just the sun, but it looks insane. [Laughs] It’s a fucking huge ball of fire. It’s just this massive thing of energy. I don’t know… it’s just mind-blowing to me. I’m also a Leo, so I love the sunshine and warmth and heat. I think it’s partially climate anxiety as well — of the earth being inevitably killed by this thing.
I’m glad you mentioned being a Leo because I was wondering if astrology was a part of this record.
WILLIAMS: Yeah. I wouldn’t say it had to do with the record, per se… Well, I guess actually, the line in “Big Beast” that’s like, “Out on the concrete/ You got something in your eye/ But I know you’re crying/ ’Cause your birthday’s in July,” is definitely a dig on Cancers. A hundred percent. [Laughs] But I don’t think astrology really plays into the record, just being in awe of the stars and the energy and the planets and acknowledging that we’re at the whim of whatever’s happening out there. Which I guess is sort of what astrology’s about.
WILLIAMS: It kind of started as an imposter syndrome song. It took me by surprise — the sense that I could do it, too. I was like, “Whoa, I can do this too?” It doesn’t matter what “it” is to me in writing the song. It’s just imposter syndrome.
“And now I’m a builder,” which at the time I literally was — as a carpenter’s assistant. But then it’s like, slow down, be careful, don’t risk the roadkill, like don’t risk being overkill, which I guess is also about imposter syndrome. You get this burst of confidence and self-assurance and then you’re like, “Wait is this actually going to make me go too fast and not think about what’s happening, am I gonna be roadkill?” Then it goes back to this imposter syndrome shit and anxiety of doing something wrong. It’s about the risks of going fast and doing “it,” whatever it is. The end is like, fuck it, speed up, drive while you still can, leave the house while you can, take the risks, risk the roadkill, risk being overkill.
6. “Iowa 146”
WILLIAMS: The title is named after this road in Iowa that I spent a lot of time on driving and biking. But there was this one specific night with a lover just parked on the side of the road on the top of this person’s car staring at the sky on the edge of this cornfield. I named it after that. It’s a very nostalgic song. I wanted it to feel like a person picking on a shitty, acoustic guitar at four AM on an enclosed porch at a party while people are half passed out and smoking cigarettes. Just that beautiful intimacy of whoever’s still barely awake. I wanted to capture that.
I wrote this song really in one go one night during quarantine when I was deep into memories and mining my brain and thinking about past relationships. I was feeling really sweetly nostalgic about a past relationship, which I feel like is rare. [Laughs] I usually look back on relationships that I’ve had and I’m like, “Damn that was fucked up.” [Laughs] Not all the time, but a lot of the time. But I just found myself feeling so sweetly about the whole thing and really missing the feeling that I had in that moment on the top of that car.
The guitar plays an intense role in the lyrics.
WILLIAMS: There’s something in it also about sharing love with people by playing them guitar. Not in a rock and roll, onstage with a million pedals and amps way, but in a very intimate, quiet way, like the guitar as an acoustic instrument that is very tender. It plays the role of being a very tender and intimate thing in my life a lot of the time, but it’s usually not when I’m playing shows. I wanted to capture the guitar as a social thing in my songs as opposed to playing rock and roll onstage for people because it’s just not the same thing in my mind at all.
WILLIAMS: “Pass” is about trying to find meaning in routine and the daily parts of life that add up to something amazing. It’s hard. You just lie down, you wake up, you lie down, you wake up… is that how life passes? And getting stuck filtering through past memories, like in “Iowa 146.” Using memories as an escape from the present and what feels mundane. The next verse after that verse is wondering about this and flipping through some specific memories.
One of them is the terror I felt one night walking across a huge, empty field on my home in Iowa. The sky was totally cloudless and I could see the Milky Way fully and I got this really intense vertigo and thought I was gonna fall into the sky. I had to just keep walking otherwise I feel like I would’ve passed out. [Laughs] It’s just all of these memories and at the end it’s like, I know all of this and more is yet to come and I stay up all night to write it into a song and wrestle with it and embrace the bad that comes with the good.
When you sing the line, “I know the worst is yet to come,” is it not necessarily a bad thing?
WILLIAMS: I think that’s a nice way of putting it. The worst is yet to come, but also the best is yet to come. That line is also me trying to tell myself to embrace whatever the heck is happening now even if it feels like shit because it could always be worse in the future. I think a lot of songs are me trying to tell myself things, like affirmations. I’m thinking of that affirmation meme page now. [Laughs] You know the one that’s like, “I’m gonna have an amazing weekend.” [Laughs]
I’m gonna follow it now.
WILLIAMS: Yeah, it’s so good. It’s so fucking funny. But I think a lot of my songs are sort of that. Just focus and you will find it. Be present. The worst is yet to come. All of these memories all exist. Just trying to think of the present as a conglomeration as all of the things that have happened in the past.
It feels like a very quarantine song because in quarantine I definitely noticed the pattern of living much more than I did before.
WILLIAMS: Totally. I did write this in quarantine. It’s one of the couple that I wrote during the thick of the quarantine. But I had a few concussions in 2019 and 2020 before quarantine happened, and it made me basically have to live COVID life in a sense. I had to just sit in a room alone and heal my brain. I developed this really new relationship with just existing and mindfulness and being happy and fine with whatever’s happening even if it’s absolutely nothing. Even though I wrote it in quarantine, I think the sentiment is something I was thinking about long before because of the isolation I had to be in.
That reminds me of a book I recently read, Bandit by Molly Brodak.
WILLIAMS: Oh, shit. Molly Brodak is sick. I’ve been meaning to read more of her stuff.
There’s a part about one of her surgeries and it was very similar to what you just said — about being isolated and having this new reality where you have to make your own kind of mental routine because you can’t do anything.
WILLIAMS: Yeah. I think when I’m not in a state like that, I don’t really think about it. But just talking to you now, I feel like I’ve spent a fair amount of my life in that. When I was younger, I had a bone cyst basically, not a cancerous thing, just my leg bone was too soft or something. I had a bunch of surgeries to fix it. So I had a lot of time as an eight and nine year old not able to socialize in the same way or go play outside. I do think that that contributed to me being a very thoughtful and creative person. I remember even back then being in bed and coming up with stories, coming up with movies and watching them in my mind on the ceiling. [Laughs]
8. “Flames And Flat Tires”
WILLIAMS: “Flames” I wrote on my second or third day of quarantine in Bristol. I flew there and had to quarantine for a week or two. I was staying in this apartment and the bedroom had a window that opened up onto this huge party street. Every night I was trying so hard to sleep. I was so jetlagged alone in this random flat in England. Until like seven in the morning, there’d be a ruckus, the most crazy fucking shit going on outside the window. At one point, it was 7:30AM on a Thursday, and there were still people from the night before blasting “No Air” by Jordan Sparks and singing along so loudly. I have a voice memo of that. [Laughs]
All that to say I was in a weird, weird state. This song just came out. I wanted to write a song that was heavily influenced by Guided By Voices and that very short ruckus kind of rock and roll, but not heavy rock and roll. I feel like Guided By Voices is a band that just does it so well. Like maybe you’re playing an acoustic guitar, but you’re making it distorted and it’s scrappy and amazing. That was my main inspiration for writing that song. It was also inspired by this novella called Infect Your Friends And Loved Ones by Torrey Peters. It’s a queer apocalypse book that’s set in Iowa. I had this image that was inspired by it and other things of just barreling through life, crashing barely into buildings, and just going faster and the car’s on fire and the tires are flat and you keep careening through.
The last line, “Trying to recall how the rain felt on my skin/ And scream to anyone who’ll listen” — that’s how I think of the whole album. I think of that as what I’m doing with the album and as a musician. Going back to what we were talking about with “I’ll Go Running,” I’m just trying to recall and document and share these things and scream about it to anyone who’ll listen. If people care, that’s amazing. I had an art teacher in college who said one time that the role of an artist is to notice. That really stuck with me, and I think that’s what I’m trying to do with this record — just notice and share what I notice.
I’ve heard artists often being called “observers”; it just feels like being on the sidelines.
WILLIAMS: I’ve noticed that when I feel less aware of the little details around me, I feel less creative. I feel like when you spend time on your phone, you’re not really tuned in with what’s around you in the same way, and I’m not able to write in the same way. Being an observer and noticing details and things and connections that other people don’t or you yourself might not when you’re not paying attention to it is, I think, the role of artists.
I’m sure that a phone is a hindrance to your creative process especially because you’re obviously very influenced by nature.
WILLIAMS: Dude, totally. I got an iPhone two years ago for my first international tour. My parents bought it for me for Christmas, a shitty 6S that I still have. It’s not a good phone. [Laughs] They were like, “You’re gonna get lost in Belgium! You need to have an iPhone! You can’t just have a flip phone anymore!” I was like, “No, I don’t want it,” and then they just got it for me anyway. And… yeah, it sucks. There’s this 100 gecs line that’s like, “I’m gonna throw my phone into the lake,” and now, living in Chicago by Lake Michigan, I just want to throw my phone into the fucking lake. I don’t want it anymore. It doesn’t help me connect with anything; it just feels alienating. But… it’s not all bad. I like posting weird shit. I’ve had to stop myself many times from just shitposting memes on my Squirrel Flower Instagram account. I feel like that’s mostly what I do on my personal account.
Anyways… [Laughs] The phone is hard for creativity. Well, also it’s just that you consume so much information. That can be an amazing and inspiring thing, but for me it’s that I consume so much information on my phone and I don’t have any time to process any of it because it’s just more information. It’s a double-edged sword. I feel like there’s a way to use phones and social media and all of that in a way that does not suck. It’s just about figuring out how to do that.
WILLIAMS: [Laughs] Yeah. That sort of leads nicely into “To Be Forgotten.”
9. “To Be Forgotten”
WILLIAMS: I wasn’t actually thinking about this when I wrote the song, but the producer Ali and I were in the studio producing it one day. I was talking about what the song was about, and he was like, “Oh, I thought it was referencing the right to be forgotten.” And I was like, “What are you talking about? What’s the right to be forgotten?” And apparently, he told me, it’s a bill in the UK that says the person has the right to erase their data that’s held on the internet via cookies and tracking and all of that. It just blew my mind — the fact that we have to have the right to be forgotten by tech trackers selling our data and the right to live outside of the technocrat hellscape. [Laughs] So just the right to delete your data and disappear in a tech-data sense, but the song was initially about the ability to go and leave and start anew if you want, no strings attached. The beauty of being truly alone and forgotten and independent and it all being enough. The sun in your arms and there being such beauty in that.
Then the outro was really influenced by music I grew up hearing my family and extended family play. Renaissance, early music, lute, recorder, and acoustic bass — the music of family and love and my ancestors. I think that way of playing influences the way I play guitar a lot of the time, maybe less obviously. It wasn’t even intentional really. I was just playing and Ali had been recording and then we heard it back. He was like, “That’s beautiful.” I was like, “Damn… that is kind of beautiful, let’s keep that.”
What inspired you to write a song about the allure of the ability to disappear?
WILLIAMS: Well, there’s parts of it that were in journals from years before that I ended up picking out and expanding upon. It’s kind of just about this feeling I get either when I’m on tour or when I was in England. Not alone, because I was chilling with friends who live there and having British lovers. [Laughs] It was a very beautiful and enriching time, but just being in this foreign place alone knowing that I’m there to make my art and my music being the thing that is guiding me through life as opposed to being in a place for another person. I think I Was Born Swimming was a lot about the anxiety of feeling like I didn’t want to base my life around somebody else and feeling like I had to. So just the beauty of being in the world and feeling like the earth and the world and whatever happens is gonna be the right thing that is happening.
10. “Desert Wildflowers”
WILLIAMS: “Desert Wildflowers” was the first song I wrote for the record. I wrote it right after coming back from a month long half-solo, half-band tour. It was the last tour I did that I booked on my own before working with an agent, so it was pretty much just scrappy DIY shows and just travelling across the entire country and seeing friends — just a beautiful, beautiful time. I’d also went to California for the first time and saw the desert for the first time. I was very struck by it and was thinking about the wildflowers and the way that they grow in this incredibly arid landscape where there are fires and no water. They don’t need much nourishment… and to be like that… they don’t need a lot to be the way they are, but I was like, oh, to be like that would be nice. But then leaning into the water and facing the fears of the storm and the tornado.
I actually did stand out in a tornado one time in Iowa, so that’s not even a metaphor. It is but also it isn’t. It was my second year at college and there was a tornado. I’d never experienced one before. I was in some building and I look outside and the sky is just black. It was absolutely nighttime suddenly and it was like four o’clock in October or September or something. I went outside and wanted to feel how the air felt and it felt weird. [Laughs] It felt really weird. I just stood outside for like five minutes and I remember there was this very specific change that happened. The air shifted and I was like, “Oh shit, I gotta go inside.” Right as that happened, the sirens started going again. I went to the basement of this building near me. After, I went outside when the tornado passed and it was the most beautiful, Renaissance-painting, cherub-baby sky I’ve ever seen in my life. But yeah, “Desert Wildflowers” is about not being scared of the storm and the ebbs and flows of life. Trying to live life without fear and live life taking risks. Believing that shit is happening because it’s supposed to be, which I feel like I’ve said a lot.
WILLIAMS: Listening back, I feel like it sounds like pandemic life but I wrote it in 2019. I wanted it to be a doom song. It was partially inspired by this night a few years ago when I drove to the beach with some friends and it was in the middle of this insane heat wave in Massachusetts. It was like 100 degrees at 10 PM. We drove up to this beach an hour north of the city in my friend’s car with her dog. The beach had this huge carnival arcade next to it and there was an army ship out in the ocean setting off a massive firework display and the dog was freaking out because of it, just so stressed and trying to bite the air and running around. She was so scared. The fireworks left the air super smoky and miles out off the shore there was just smoke combined with the haze of the heat. It was also a full moon and it was rising. It was the brightest red moon. It looked insane, like death and apocalypse and like a nuclear moon.
We eventually got the dog to chill, and we jumped in the ocean because it was so hot. The ocean itself was hot and the air was hot even though it was really late at night. And swimming in the ocean has always been a big fear of mine — the feeling of the depths and not being able to see what’s there. But I dove in headfirst. The ocean was just black. I just treaded water and was terrified. I looked out at the expanse.
This song has an eerie sound to it.
WILLIAMS:I feel like the first half, which is just me on guitar with some trumpet and cello, is minimal. Then it’s like this massive guitar — heavy shit that comes in. Definitely trying to make it sound spooky and make it feel like nighttime.
It’s pretty similar to “Big Beast,” right?
WILLIAMS: Yeah, totally.
I forgot to mention when we were talking about “Big Beast,” but it also applies to this song too: The whole moment of transition reminds me of the TikTok trends where a song transition is used as some sort of big moment in a video. Are you aware of that?
WILLIAMS: Dude, yeah. I realized that recently. I was like, maybe I should try to make a viral TikTok with this song. [Laughs] I know I have the ability to do it, but also I cannot use the app for shit. I might just enlist someone else to do it.
WILLIAMS: I wrote “Starshine” after a Tarot reading with my great aunt/godmother. She’s a professional Tarot reader. I was in a really dark place at the time. The reading basically ended up saying, “Remember that your ancestors are all around you watching you all the time, and nature is, too.” Just talking about the eternal energy of everything. I hung up the phone after the reading and just wrote the song. Again, it was like affirmations. “Don’t let it pass/ Don’t let it wither.” There’s no use in trying to make yourself small or to hide from the pains of life. You’ll still be burned from the sun, you’ll still experience loss and sadness and all and everything. That’s the ebb and flow of life. It’s better to just live and don’t let it pass.
What do you think you mean when you say “Don’t let it pass”? If I’m going through something shitty, I’m so used to hearing “It’ll pass.”
WILLIAMS: To me “Don’t let it pass” means don’t tap out and not experience things fully because you’re scared of experiencing the negative sides of things as well. I guess it’s me telling myself to lean into things that suck. If you’re having a bad time, sure, it’ll pass, but you’re in the present. You’re in it and you’re feeling it. Instead of tapping out and being like, “It’ll pass,” I think it’s really powerful to be like, this is what’s happening right now, and thinking of having a hard time as just a part of life and the journey and part of being a person.
Planet (i) is out now on Polyvinyl.