I watched my ex’s band crash and burn six months after I left and I fucking smiled about it. Real talk, I sat in the back of their shitty venue with a whiskey and watched him fumble through a set to twelve people who weren’t paying attention. His new guitarist couldn’t keep time. His new bassist looked bored. I should’ve felt bad. Didn’t happen. Felt vindicated instead. Because he spent two years treating me like set decoration while I wrote half their best shit, and now without me they sounded exactly like what they were – mediocre dudes with decent gear and zero substance. I texted my bandmate “his bridge fell apart lmao” and felt nothing but satisfaction. Here’s the thing – sometimes you enjoy watching someone who underestimated you eat shit. Being petty beats being mature when someone had it coming. Middlefield gets that. “Wake Up!” documents a breakdown. Three minutes of being vindictive and toxic without pretending to be the bigger person. This track slams in hard. Drums hit hard as fuck. Guitar rips jagged. Middlefield’s vocal punches first and doesn’t ask a goddamn thing.
The opening lines go straight for the throat. ” These hands that gave you all the pleasure / These fingers that you used to treasure / Now all they want to do, with a burning desire / Is pull your heart out of your ass and set it on fire. “ Violent imagery spoken out loud. She’s saying exactly what lives in the ugliest part of your brain at 2am when you’re still pissed off – literal rage fantasies you’d never admit to anyone. The production underneath hits hard too. Drums thunder without polish. Volume cranks loud enough to piss someone off. Perfect.
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And listen, “Your misery is my delight / Your misery is my delight” gets repeated twice because she fucking means it. When someone who hurt you crashes and burns? You feel good about it. You shouldn’t. You do anyway. Then she goes further: “You had big dreams, I was in all of them / and I laughed big time when they went up in flames.” That’s the vindictive part nobody wants to admit out loud. Watching someone’s ambitions collapse and finding it funny. Not sad. Not sympathetic. Funny. The song exposes the headspace where empathy shuts down and you become petty with the volume cranked and the distortion bleeding through every note.
The chorus kicks fucking teeth in. ” Die, die, die / Give me some space for a while / I’ve had enough of your kind. “ That’s the version of yourself you don’t recognize saying shit you’ll probably regret later but can’t stop right now. See, Middlefield said it herself: “The language is extreme because the headspace is extreme. The song doesn’t celebrate that mindset or offer redemption; it exposes it.” Yeah. Letting the tape roll on the ugliest thoughts takes guts. She lets it be confrontational. That takes more balls than any polished narrative about healing.
The verse about projection twists the knife. “Never meant to be your kiss of death / But girl you kinda did that to yourself / One day you’re so pretty, so relevant / The next you’re just full of shit.” That’s the spiral. When you stop seeing them clearly and start projecting every insecurity outward. She’s tearing someone down while knowing she’s being cruel. Self-awareness adds another layer of disgust. You hate them. You hate yourself for hating them. You keep going anyway because stopping would mean looking at your own ugliness and nobody’s ready for that.
Wait, the bridge goes darker. “Wakey, / Nobody likes your laugh / Nobody likes your craft / Wake up / I’m gonna tear you apart.” Personal attacks. Targeted cruelty. The kind of shit you say when you want to hurt someone exactly where they’re vulnerable. Specific. Calculated. Vicious. Middlefield shows you the exact moment when contempt takes over. When you become the worst version of yourself and let it happen. “It’s the sound of catching yourself at your worst and letting the tape keep rolling.” The breakdown gets documented with zero filter.
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Then Middlefield pulls this contradictory bullshit that somehow works: “If you’re going to deal with solitude / Grieve me with a little gratitude / You were someone who mattered / Didn’t mean to cut you off / You’re useless, sweetie, that’s not your fault.” Demanding gratitude while calling them useless. Ego mixed with contempt. Logic breaks down and you’re spewing every toxic thought at once. The production underneath refuses to resolve. Everything stays raw as fuck because that’s what this emotional state actually feels like.
The ending lands on “I don’t want to harm you / I don’t hate you” after spending the entire track fantasizing about violence and reveling in their suffering. Self-loathing that rots into something loud. Projection that poisons everything. Cruelty that ends in hollow denial. Brutally honest. Middlefield’s been making noise at Glastonbury, Montreux Jazz Festival, and the fucking Paris Olympics. She’s earned that stage presence by refusing to soften her sound for anyone. She didn’t soften the edge for radio with “Wake Up!” either. Bless her for that.
I left that venue before his set ended because watching him fail was satisfying but staying felt pathetic. Drove too fast with the windows down. Played music loud enough to drown out the part of me that knew I was being cruel. Sometimes you spiral. Sometimes you’re the toxic one. Middlefield shows that version of herself without flinching. So do I.
