Juice’s “Superimposed” is a song with a rather eccentric yet dark atmosphere. It’s about the difficult journey of recognising and admitting your own mistakes – and possible toxic traits.
Listen: “Superimposed” – Juice
The last two years have probably been the most chaotic period we will ever live in our lives. Zoom concerts and M&Gs, Lorde smoking a fennel bong, the whole world falling in love with an Italian band – did Of Monsters and Men already foresee all this in 2019, with their third album Fever Dream?
Today we’ll talk about another fever dream, incredibly colorful and eccentric, matched by an equally dark counterpart that makes you really think about yourself and your possibly toxic traits. Let’s dive into Juice’s music and their latest groovy single, “Superimposed.“
In this track, Juice are inviting us to be a part of a rather peculiar party, which on the surface just looks like a merry gathering of cowgirls, jogging on the spot enthusiasts, and people with makeup that would make Euphoria’s makeup artists envious. While listening to “Superimposed,” you get carried away by its upbeat tune, you feel like dancing and prancing around the room. Then, you slowly start to realize something is wrong, especially if you’re watching the video. An all too smiley Christian Rose sings about a person who misses his ex terribly, and realizes all the mistakes he’s made. He now wants to redeem himself and start over, though. So you think that’s good, this is why the song’s happy… Right?
Wait, when did he suddenly become angry? Did we just hear “I learned to fight when I was seven and I lost my sense of joy and love and empathy”? You don’t even have the time to actually realize what you just heard. Rose’s voice almost distorts, slows down, as if he’s tired of holding up that façade and smiling forcibly when there is absolutely nothing to laugh about.
I know I know I know I’m a hypocrite
Could start a fight the lyrics might just be the impetus
I was thinking maybe we could talk a little
You and me and ego
He told me I was supposed to say I love you here and we gon’ make it better
We got make it better
I don’t know if pages of apology can make it better
Say it louder, say it back
Damn, yeah I take it back,
Damn, why you gotta be difficult
Why you gotta be so goddamn muhfuckin head ass stupid ass typical
Please forgive me I get angry I’m a boy
I learned to fight when I was seven and I lost my sense of joy and love and empathy
However, there is no time to process all these emotions, to go deeper into the protagonist’s conflict because the catchy chorus starts again, as if to show how difficult it is to think about your mistakes and admit them, especially after a breakup. Started as fun and bright, the atmosphere of “Superimposed” becomes more and more grotesque. There is a sense of confusion and uneasiness that cannot be explained, especially when at the end of the chorus we hear Kamau Barton screaming (literally) several times “Just like you”, repeating the last verse of the chorus.
“Superimposed” captures this moment of dark confusion and radiant clarity. Sonically, we wanted those elements to climax with flashes of violent dissolution over this intensely melodic landscape. It’s a moment of finally acknowledging something about yourself, and it’s a moment of realizing that what you’re acknowledging is quite dark. “Superimposed” lives inside of dichotomy – it’s got that hyper-bright over the top musical veneer, but in turn, the euphoria induced becomes a distorted one.
The video also becomes much more flashy, slowed down, blurry, in a room that has gone from candy pink to dark red. Once the piece is over, you seriously have to stop for a moment, focus and try to understand something in this whirlwind of events, emotions, and colors.
We can say that “Superimposed” shows in a great way the stream of consciousness that the protagonist feels towards a person from whom he’s now far away, starting from the title. Our unlucky lover talks about how he regrets having tried to superimpose his own fake vision on the broken life of his partner. In the end, however, what is really superimposed are his emotions, his thoughts, united in such a chaotic (yet harmonious) way that the listener does genuinely not know what to think. “Superimposed” is the transfiguration in music of overlay art, of how two different things can give life to a completely different and unique work of art. It’s getting in touch with the darkest part of yourself, a fever dream that you might never want to wake up from.