Breaking into the music scene, Hana Eid unpacks the five stages of grief in her debut EP.
I Exist Because You Say So, released on Feb. 23, is Hana Eid’s first EP. Known for her hits “Dancing to The Smiths,” “Let Down” and “Shrapnel,” this release is a big milestone for the Nashville-based singer who has been playing the guitar since she was eight years old.
In an interview with Atwood Magazine, Eid described the album as an “accumulation of songs I wrote as a true young adult.” She went on to say that I Exist Because You Say So “feels very coming-of-age and indicative of a very finite and precious time in my life. While the project isn’t conceptual per se, it’s all tied together by the same longing that seems characteristic of entering adulthood.”
Hailing what Kelly Carrazone said is an “unmatched uniqueness in sincerity, both in her lyrics and her spoken words,” listeners can’t help but be drawn in by Eid’s ability to write lyrics that make others feel completely see-through.
In her atmospheric debut EP, fans can rest easy knowing that for Eid, this ability is a renewable resource.
Upon undertaking a deep analysis of both the musicality and lyricism of this EP, I discovered that I Exist Because You Say So could be read as an examination of the progression through the five stages of grief. While it is unclear whether the EP was intentionally written this way, each song represents one of the five stages very clearly.
The five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, but I Exist Because You Say So completely undermines the unilinear progression of the stages. Although many people want this process to be linear, with one stage being completed before moving on to another, this simply isn’t the case in reality.
The need for a digestible, clearly outlined timeline for recovery is simply another facet of loss. For many people, grief can feel like being lost in the ocean with no idea where to go and no one to bring you back to shore. Drifting slowly through a sea of absolute nothingness, these five stages act like an anchor for those experiencing grief, allowing them to tether themselves to something that makes sense when nothing else does.
In I Exist Because You Say So, Eid moves through the grief caused by unrequited love.
Starting with the muddy opening track “Weird,” Eid sets up the story for her listeners. Suffering from the debilitating diagnosis of a chronic crush, Eid wants nothing more than to be happy with the person she loves. The lyrics “screaming for the love of God / I want it so bad” highlight this need, which currently seems unfulfilled.
Lyrically, the track reads like notes app poetry written at 2 a.m.; raw, unfiltered and purely authentic. A disorderly culmination of electric guitar, pulsing bass and relentless drumbeat, “Weird,” in all of its perfect chaos, expertly nails the inner conflict that comes with the territory of an unrequited lover.
The second track, “Taller Than Me,” is an excellent representation of bargaining. Built around dark, relentless electric guitar and a thumping bassline, the track’s gritty tone is for every kid who fell in love with their older brother’s best friend.
With lyrics like “I f***ing want you / With conviction / Swear you’ll hear it if / You just stop and listen,” “Taller Than You” understands what it’s like to get down on your knees and beg to be loved. Eid would do anything to show this person that if they just tried hard enough, they could love her just as much as she loves them. The line “I would have given whatever you wanted / For only an hour inside of your closet” is a perfect example of the “if only” or “what if” questions associated with the bargaining stage.
Meant to be screamed in a beat-up, early 2000s Subaru, “Taller Than You” expertly unpacks the things you’d do when you desperately want someone who doesn’t even see you.
The ultimate take on the depressive stage, “Between Your Teeth,” the album’s third song, is a sucker punch to the stomach. Examining the act of loving someone so hard that it ruins you, the track is heavily marked by Eid’s brutally honest lyricism and signature swampy electric guitar.
Heavier than the EP’s first two songs, listening to “Between Your Teeth” feels like poking an old bruise over and over again until it’s a darker shade of purple than it was to begin with.
The lyrics “You don’t care if I get home safe / And suddenly I don’t either” showcase the singer’s descent into complete self-destruction at the hands of her all-consuming passion. Eid’s expression of her depressive state is clarified further in the line “Gonna wash my body like a chore,” highlighting that even the act of caring for her own body has become difficult.
Hopeless and without a reason to go on, “Between Your Teeth” understands the practice of hyper-romanticizing every brief and insignificant interaction in the hopes that you won’t have to face the fact that your love won’t ever be returned.
The album’s fourth track, “Pitbull,” is very clearly a representation of the anger associated with grief. Unpacking the uncontainable rage produced by the “will we, won’t we?” associated with an unclear partnership, the track’s snarling electric guitar and aggressive drum beat mimic the animal the song is aptly named after.
The lyrics “I feel like a pitbull chained up outside / Foaming at the mouth / ‘Cause I said you could reach out / And you didn’t” describe the trapped, violent energy Eid is feeling.
The lines “I wanted to bite my tongue off when I heard / That you think I talk too much about him” highlight the self-destructive, unpredictable nature produced by this energy, like that of an untrained pitbull. The pitbull metaphor serves as a very clear indication of Eid’s anger.
Endlessly frustrated and increasingly violent, “Pitbull” encapsulates what it means when someone says they’re angry enough to kill someone.
Continuing with “Avoid the News,” this fifth track details Eid’s desperate attempt to deny her existence as a self-inflicted prisoner in a relationship the other party wants no part in.
A masterwork in musical tension, Eid opens with a stripped-down opening verse before allowing the track to build rapidly, sprawling across the sonic landscape as the singer moves through her denial before adopting a burning sense of rage.
By far one of the EP’s rawest tracks, “Avoid the News” allows its audience to live through Eid’s turmoil alongside her through her lyricism. Starting with the lyrics “Someone tells me you hold a grudge / And I laugh, ‘cause I’m outliving this,” Eid is clearly in a state of denial. Even though others haven’t, she is completely certain that she’ll be the one to get through to the one she loves.
But the line “I can’t escape anything that never wanted me” signifies a change in Eid’s mindset. She is starting to see that the person in question has never really wanted her, no matter how much she has denied it to herself.
The final lyric, “When did you realize you couldn’t love me,” is a complete departure from Eid’s initial attitude as she finally uncovers the truth, letting all the feelings she had been denying come to the surface.
The EP concludes with “Austin Song,” its sixth and final track. Simultaneously the sweetest and most devastating of the six, “Austin Song” is the hope of new love after a cataclysmic heartbreak. It is as close to acceptance as Eid is going to get. A perfect conclusion to an EP that lives and breathes the agony of not having love reciprocated, this track’s quiet musical demeanour dreams of a future that didn’t seem possible before.
The opening lyric “I’m gonna love you when we’re older” sees an existence past just what Eid is living right now, suggesting that there is something for her to look forward to.
Although the lyrics suggest things aren’t fully healed, such as “the cancer inside me won’t turn to remission / Unless you look at me like I am everything,” Eid knows that this isn’t the be-all end-all of her life. She is no longer denying her feelings, instead choosing to listen, to move, to change, to grow and to evolve. Things will get better, even if they are still hard right now.
Whether or not Eid intended it to be, I Exist Because You Say So is both a heart-wrenching and beautiful examination of the human process of grief. It depicts its intimate understanding of loss through its candid and confessional lyrics, building vast and visceral worlds out of Eid’s deepest, most vivid emotions.
In an interview with Atwood Magazine, Eid said that she “remembers vividly what it was like to be 14 years old and on the school bus, plugging [her] headphones in and, momentarily, feeling understood.”
With her exceptional debut EP, Eid has provided other people with the opportunity to feel like someone understands them, even if they think they are completely lost at sea.
