The Suburbs explores the chaos, discord, and unease that lies behind the deceiving veneer of suburban politeness. The song is autobiographical in nature, discussing the emotional dissonance that results from being black and gay in the heart of the Bible Belt; forced to forge an identity in an environment that covertly and overtly tells you that you should not exist.

Inspired by classic Hitchcockian horror, the video leans into the camp of those performative pleasantries which mask the hatred that fuels racism, homophobia and all prejudice. The cast of characters includes me, a bunch of racist zombies and my Higher Self — a mysterious omniscient force guiding my footsteps even when I try to resist. It’s through this consistent and often uncomfortable interaction between self and soul that we find the freedom and strength to be who we are.

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Credits
Written & Directed By: Daniel Chaney & Houston Kendrick
Produced By: Christian Bruckman & Dani St. Onge
Creative Direction: Josh Owen & Bernadine Gunderson
Stage Design: Kim Tidman
Costume Design: Josh Owen
Hair and Makeup: Bernadine Gunderson
Production Assistant: Will Clifton
Zombie 1: Bobby Knepper
Zombie 2: Kim Tidman
Zombie 3: Bernie Gunderson
Zombie 4: Weston Hurd
Zombie 5: Zac Varier
Zombie 6: Brendon Hayes
Zombie 7: Linda Parrot
Waitress: Dani St. Onge
Sweet Old Man: Bob

LYRICS
Just another day in the suburbs It really ain’t sh*t to do
I did all my chores I kissed my mother
Hit the homies like “what’s the move?”
Only the truest was in my tribe
They knew me since I was five
They never be asking me why
They already know the vibes
Man we was young and dumber
Thought we’d make it out the suburbs

I got a Lexus and named her Tapanga
We and my homies was dangerous
All that we had to our name was
Two middle fingers
When you a teen it seems your parents is strangers
So we hit the team and we did some strange sh*t

Yeah yeah
Dollar theater dance parties in the parking lot
Laughing at them preppy kids wearing crocs
Grab a bat let’s go f**k up a mailbox and crack a natty light pretend we drank a lot

We was young, dumb kids in the suburbs
Four loko, weed, and rubbers
Cover for each other
Backseat love in the summer
Young, dumb kids in the suburbs
Get that food wine out the cupboard
Promise I won’t tell your mother
If she ask just say we
Young dumb kids in the suburbs
Young dumb kids in the suburbs

Lonely boy in the suburbs
Learning how to love his skin color
Isolated by the love he prefers
Thinking he’s a good for nothing sinner
When he would close his eyes
Envision a paradise
Where everybody was nice
And people were on his side
He sounds like a bummer
But he made it out the f**king suburbs

Now that boy he love his melanin
And he very far some celibate
And by every metric he killing it
Winning would be a synonym (Oooo)

So glad we made it out the suburbs, oh I wish
Tapanga could see us grown
Every time that I play this song
I’m a hear that old engine moan
In the burbs, I call them home

Yeah
So grab a bat let’s go f**k up a mailbox
And crack a natty light
Pretend we drank a lot

We was young, dumb kids in the suburbs
Four loko, weed, and rubbers
Cover for each other
Backseat love in the summer
Young, dumb kids in the suburbs
Get that food wine out the cupboard
Promise I won’t tell your mother
If she ask just say we
Young dumb kids in the suburbs
Young dumb kids in the suburbs

Yeah
The suburbs F**k the suburbs
I love the suburbs

#HoustonKendrick #TheSuburbs