Time has a funny way of adjusting our perspective. For many of a certain age, the house telephone was a significant means of communication whilst growing up, a lifeline stretched beyond our residential borders, a connection to those in seemingly far-away places. The evolution of mobile device gave us newfound freedom, and the telephones we grew up became instantly antiquated and outdated. But there was a certain charm to the landline phone, from our memorization of numbers manually dialed or punched in to its endless cord both stretched to its breaking point and wrapped tightly around our fingers.
For Rafay Rashid, the “Landline” represents a return to something trusted. The first single from the Providence artist’s forthcoming debut solo album, Kitchen Weapons, due May 26 via Almost Ready Records, sets more than just a dial-tone. The enchanting folk-pop track, like the record itself, was produced by Dennis Ryan of Deer Tick, and features members of the famed Rhode Island band (Ian O’Neil, Chris Ryan), as well as Liz Isenberg of Huntress and Holder of Hands. It’s a departure in sound from Rashid’s garage rock band Ravi Shavi, but offers a more intimate look deep within the songwriter’s headspace.
“Like a lot of the album, the song also talks about addiction and self-destructive thoughts that can be fun and seem romantic but are ultimately disastrous for everyone involved,” Rashid tells Vanyaland.
And often, the beginning and the end both center around a simple phone call.
“In a way, ‘Landline’ is about how some of the most important parts of a romantic relationship happen on phone calls,” Rashid continues. “Specifically, this song is about a person who I had a relationship with for over 10 years, so when we were first calling each other, it was on our parents’ landlines. And then when we rekindled many years later, I was living in an empty apartment on Spring Street in New York and the only thing that was in the apartment was a landline phone. My cell phone was often dead so I started using the landline phone. It sounded better, somehow, and it prevented me from pacing around. With the landline you have to actually keep that person to your ear, you can’t just put them on speaker and kind of half pay attention. In some ways, I credit the start of that relationship, in part, to the landline phone.”
Rashid penned “Landline” at the tail-end of that decade-long relationship, and filmed the video with the help of some family members during a visit to his native Pakistan for a wedding. He says the idea for the video was to treat the song’s visual as a symbolic of a return to himself, his childhood, and his home-country.
The end of any relationship usually inspires a person to re-introduce themselves, and here, “Landline” is the opening statement to Rashid as a solo artist, an attempt for another connection.
“‘Landline’ always felt like the right place to start the album, as it was on the phone that the relationship really started and ended,” Rashid confides. “The album was entirely written in the few weeks following the break-up, and this song captures those early stages, where hope and despair are intertwining along with spite and self-pity. The song speaks to the absurdity of romanticizing a relationship right after the worst parts of it; like an immediate amnesia that plunges you back into the hopeless romantic archetype.”
He adds: “Tonally, I think it captures the dark humor inherent in the self-loathing that comes from an imploded relationship. I was in a dark place but I was also trying to have fun and committed to the idea of freedom and independence. The rest of the album kind of rides that wave, with moments of triumph amidst ever-deepening lows. I think it’s really about how sometimes it takes someone else for you to really take a look at yourself and evaluate what you’re working with on a day-to-day basis. It is my first explicitly personal album.”
It’s a call Rashid had to make.