Sarah and the Sundays dive deep into the emotional core of their achingly intimate, vulnerably triumphant third album ‘Like a Damn Dog’ – a raw and resonant indie rock reckoning of growing pains, heartbreak, identity, and self-discovery, and the fragile threads that tie us to ourselves and each other.
Stream: “The Cue” – Sarah and the Sundays
This time around, we really wanted the songs to stay true to their core emotions and values, letting the music convey the message just as loudly as the lyrics.
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Life doesn’t come with a manual, but Like a Damn Dog sure feels like one band’s attempt to make sense of the chaos.
Sarah and the Sundays’ third studio album is a visceral outpouring of emotion and self-exploration – a collection of raw reflections and hard-earned realizations delivered with equal parts grit and grace. Written during a wintry retreat in rural Connecticut and recorded at home in Austin, Texas, Like a Damn Dog captures a band fully in their element, shedding past expectations and embracing their most vulnerable, unfiltered selves. The result is a cathartic, emotionally resonant indie rock record that speaks to confusion, loss, heartbreak, disillusionment, and the quiet triumph of persistence.
I guess I didn’t notice the shift
I wouldn’t have been so nice
Last saw you at Barton
Everything felt alright
As much as I hate your guts
I think of you all the time
You got under my skin
I let you
How asinine
When will I learn?
It’s always the same
It’s not fun anymore
I don’t like this kind of pain
– “The Cue,” Sarah and the Sundays
Released February 7th via Westward Recordings/AWAL, Like a Damn Dog is the sound of Sarah and the Sundays coming into their own. From the opening pangs of “The Cue” to the haunting, cinematic close of “Ignore Me,” the five-piece of Liam Yorgensen [lead vocals, guitar], Brendan Whyburn [vocals, guitar], Quinn Lane [drums], Miles Reynolds [keyboard, guitar], and Declan Chill [bass] channel growing pains and inner turmoil into poignant, passionate powerhouse performances. They lean into discomfort and doubt, creating space for listeners to feel less alone in their own experiences. There’s no pretense or polish here – just beautifully messy humanity, delivered with searing honesty and unapologetic heart.
Like a Damn Dog follows 2021’s sophomore LP The Living End, which Atwood Magazine previously praised as “a radiant and defining musical journey brimming with energy, passion, personal growth, and indie charm.” That album found Sarah and the Sundays balancing existential anxiety with buoyant, bright indie rock – a balancing act between light and dark that solidified their voice and vision (and a knack for pairing emotionally weighted lyricism with captivating, cathartic melodies). If The Living End was a snapshot of youth in transition, then Like a Damn Dog is a document of what comes after – the reckoning, the reflection, and the hard-earned self-awareness that comes with time, distance, and experience.
“Like A Damn Dog took shape over the course of a year or so,” frontman Liam Yorgensen tells Atwood Magazine. “With the recording process for our last LP The Living End being a condensed fourteen days, we wanted to take a slower, more methodical approach to this record. Throughout the whole process we tried to give the project the time and space it needed to naturally take shape. From writing the record over three months in rural, wintery Connecticut, to tracking the album at home in Austin, we really wanted to create this album in our own time and on our own terms. All of that culminated in some of our most honest, authentic work to date.”
Sharing such an intimate space together over those long, dark, and cold months allowed the band to connect on new, deeper levels, resulting in some of their most vulnerable and emotionally driven songwriting to date. Thematically, Like a Damn Dog is a record of raw, unvarnished humanity and unfiltered feeling.
“We went into this record without harboring much of a holistic view of the final product,” Yorgensen explains. “If anything, we really wanted the songs to speak for themselves. In the past, we’ve made a lot of sad songs sound happy and vice versa. This time around, we really wanted the songs to stay true to their core emotions and values, letting the music convey the message just as loudly as the lyrics. It was a very cathartic process to dive headfirst into various emotions, instead of trying to subvert the listener in one way or another.”
I’m no Casanova
I don’t know what they told ya
But I’m here
I’m paying rent
Sometimes I still play pretend
And in my head
I’m totally the person I should be
But outside
I’m a tragedy
I’m not confused
I just don’t know what to do
And god it’s priceless
I’m leaving lifeless
I feel like I’m delusional
And in the same breath
I use to confess, I,
I tell a lie like usual
But don’t get me wrong
It’s all that I want
I’m just afraid that
I’m not what you thought and I
Won’t ever be
– “Casanova,” Sarah and the Sundays
For Yorgensen and his bandmates, this record is unquestionably the most mature release of their ten-year career.
“I think this album gives the listeners a glimpse into where we’re all at in our lives right now,” he says. “From our ever-changing musical tastes, to growing into adulthood in the modern age, this record feels like the most honest thing we’ve made as a band to date. Whereas our previous albums were more intentionally inspired sonically, Like A Damn Dog is really just us making songs we needed to make. The album marks us as a band stepping out on our own and leaving behind a lot of the comparison, judgement, and expectation that’s shaped previous releases.”
Just relax, clench your fist
Just forget it, reminisce
Just double down, reassess
Do your worst, try your best
It’s not that hard, just give up
You are God, you’re not enough
I love you so, I’d take your life
You should go, stay the night
I don’t get why
I don’t get anything at all
You must be tired
Of me shaking like a dog
And I think twice about
Most everything
But still I can’t recall
I don’t get why
I don’t get anything at all
– “You Must Be Tired,” Sarah and the Sundays
The band candidly describe Like a Damn Dog as melancholic, honest, and raw. The album’s title was actually the original working title of track six, “You Must Be Tired” (whose chorus includes the lyric, “You must be tired of me shaking like a dog”), and while the song eventually got a new name, that phrase stuck around.
“I think we all really liked how it felt, and as we mulled over the record and its themes, the title started to make more and more sense for the album as a whole,” Yorgensen reflects. “It denotes a certain animalistic, instinctual emotion that is littered across the record. Lyrically, instrumentally, thematically, and tonally, ‘Like a Damn Dog’ just felt right.”
Those visceral emotions are palpable from the moment the album takes off with “The Cue,” an electric introduction that rises from a soft start to a stirring, spirited roar as the narrator realizes a loved one has moved on without offering closure. “I think I deserved a kinder goodbye, guess I’m unworthy at least in your eyes,” Yorgensen sings, his voice hot on the mic as he effortlessly embodies a painful moment of fracture, frustration, regret, and remorse. “I wish I never took the bait, wish I never got high; should’ve washed you away while I still had time. I mean look at me now, I wish I could cry. Get it all out, go on and find the next guy, I should’ve washed you away…” Seldom does choose to embrace the “better to have never loved at all” maxim (most folks opt for “better to have loved and lost,” in my experience), yet in the heat of heartbreak, all we want is that reversal – of fortune and misfortune alike.
So begins an album that leans into life’s biggest emotions with an unapologetic attitude and bold, brash sounds. Like a tinderbox, Like a Damn Dog often feels like it’s one lit match (or painful memory) away from going up in flames, which it does with fiery finesse (and beautifully so!) on multiple occasions. Songs like “Afterlife,” “Pipe Down,” “You Must Be Tired” (a personal favorite), “Crystal Ball,” and “Policy” stand out for their marriage of unfiltered self-expression with seductive, soul-stirring musicality. Truth be told, every one of these twelve songs is worth its weight in gold: Best experienced in full, Like a Damn Dog unravels like a confessional journal or a coming-of-age film, each track adding a new layer of depth, emotion, and meaning to a record that demands, and deserves, to be felt from start to finish.
Sarah and the Sundays’ band members have plenty of personal highlights as well. “We all love ‘The Cue’! It was a song that kind of went over our heads when we first demoed it, but once we revised it and then finally tracked it, it quickly emerged as one of our favorites,” Yorgensen smiles. “Another is ‘Afterlife.’ This is a deeply personal one and was one of the most cathartic songs we’ve ever made as a group. ‘You Must Be Tired’ is also one of our favorites. The instrumental in this one is just so mesmerizing while the vocals feel hauntingly intimate.”
Further lyrical highlights include the chorus of “Afterlife” – “If grief is a part of love, then I’ll love no more, I’ve had enough” – and the chorus of “Sweet Tooth,” which Yorgensen affectionally calls a ‘rather sad, but good one’: “You either get old or die young, and somehow they both feel like losing.”
Speaking in past tense
Splitting up ashes
Into the new year
What can I do here?
Where was my warning?
Early that morning
I wish I had seen her
I wish I could be her
If grief is a part of love
Then I’ll love no more
I’ve had enough
I can not watch my mother cry
I can not find the after life
I’m not as sure as I used to be
That I’m not afraid
Of the end of me
I’ll live and die this way
– “Afterlife,” Sarah and the Sundays
Ultimately, Like a Damn Dog is as much a time capsule as it is a lifeline – a record born of introspection, honesty, and the kind of emotional transparency that only comes from deep trust and collaboration.
“We hope listeners can find some solace in these songs,” Yorgensen shares. “Making this record was a deeply emotional process, and we hope that some of that shines through the music. Life can be incredibly trying at times, and hopefully this record offers some consolation to listeners going through the many trials life has to offer.”
“Now that the record is out, we mainly just feel a lot of relief. Making and putting out this record has been such a turbulent process. It’s really gratifying to have this body of work as a time capsule of a year or so of our lives.”
Sarah and the Sundays have never sounded more sure of themselves, even in the throes of uncertainty – and in embracing life’s messiness, they’ve made something truly unforgettable.
Experience the full record via our below stream, and peek inside Sarah and the Sundays’ Like a Damn Dog with Atwood Magazine as the band take us track-by-track through the music and lyrics of their third studio album!
Catch Sarah and the Sundays on their headline tour this spring – dates and more information here!
Crystal ball
Show me that there’s
Something else coming
Doesn’t have to be better
It just has to be different
Know it all
You’ve got something else coming
You just have to be better
You just have to be different
Get me out of this body bag
Take me back to the life I had
Or show me something I could never imagine
Just get me out of this f*ing traffic
I don’t wanna be awake much longer tonight
I don’t wanna be problematic
I don’t really want to be in love anymore
But I don’t know if I can live without it
– “Crystal Ball,” Sarah and the Sundays
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:: stream/purchase Like a Damn Dog here ::
:: connect with Sarah and the Sundays here ::
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Stream: ‘Like a Damn Dog’ – Sarah and the Sundays
:: Inside Like a Damn Dog ::
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The Cue
“The Cue” chronicles the emotional journey of realizing someone has left you behind without closure. Not quite angry, but somewhat resentful, it contemplates the regret one has when things turn sour and you wish you never started in the first place.
Afterlife
“Afterlife” is a song about struggling to find pieces of your loved ones in the world after they’ve passed away. It’s dramatic, it’s sorrowful, and it explores the idea of contemplating your own mortality after experiencing loss for the first time.
Casanova
“Casanova” is a song about imposter syndrome, feeling like you somehow found yourself in a position you don’t deserve, and you’ll soon be found out. It’s self-reflective but still light-hearted.
Pipe Down
“Pipe Down” touches on the experience of losing the connection you once had with friends as you grow in different directions. It weighs the tension between admitting fault and still pleading for communication to address interpersonal issues that are apparent but going unspoken.
Sweet Tooth
“Sweet Tooth” is a reflection on the parts of your former self that remain within you, and the contrast between your naivety and your newfound reflection on mortality. The song captures the confusion associated with loss and how projecting that experience onto your own life can leave you wondering what lies ahead.
You Must Be Tired
“You Must Be Tired” shows the ebb and flow of the human experience as it happens in daily life. As one ages into adulthood, it can be utterly confusing to make sense of the world around you, and “You Must Be Tired” follows this experience down to the narrator comparing themselves to a cowering dog.
Crystal Ball
“Crystal Ball” is a plea to the mystic to bring change. It finds the narrator at their wits end, feeling stuck and hopeless, willing to take anything other than what they have. It is a raw, honest description of the depths of depression and woe.
Looking Dead at the Function
“Looking Dead At The Function” is a cheeky dig at one’s self for promising to better their behavior and still falling into the same unhealthy routine come game time. The chorus lyric “I guess I’m under my spell” finds the narrator theorizing there must be mystic intervention considering how difficult they are finding simple lifestyle changes.
Skin and Bone
“Skin and Bone” is a song about knowing you’re not in the right place while simultaneously struggling to identify the better direction. It describes the intensity of feeling like you’re falling behind, bottling up resentment towards your own confusion and circumstance, knowing a better reality exists somewhere.
Policy
“Policy” captures the frustration of feeling powerless in the face of systemic issues and distant leadership. Inspired by the political climate and the disenfranchisement felt by many young people, it’s a heartfelt critique of those entrusted with our best interests yet remain out of reach. Both urgent and introspective, the song resonates with anyone questioning the systems meant to protect their future.
Cease
“Cease” is a personal reflection on efforts whose rewards don’t fulfill the energy put forward. It touches on the difficulty in putting yourself out there and not finding quite what you expected once you do. Furthermore, the song dives into the self doubt induced by such experiences and how it can quickly discourage you from making any further attempts.
Ignore Me
“Ignore Me” is a cinematic and dramatic telling of the loss of control and how that experience can internally invalidate one’s feelings and perspective. It finds one questioning their sanity after losing control and relinquishing themselves to something greater when they realize they can’t maintain themselves the way they should.
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:: connect with Sarah and the Sundays here ::
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