The Cunning Linguists have tapped into a very specific, sharp-edged reality with their latest single “CAN’T WALK HOME”. Hailing from Menai, Australia, the duo comprised of Clare Easdown and Jade Ryan strip away the unnecessary gloss of modern production to reveal something much more skeletal and urgent. It is a Lo-Fi blend of Post-Punk and Pop Punk that feels as immediate as a sudden drop in temperature.
There is a moment in the track where Jade Ryan’s electric guitar shifts from delicate, lonely arpeggios into a forceful, rhythmic strumming. It’s the sonic equivalent of realizing your shadow is longer than it should be and deciding, right then and there, that you will not be a victim. I once watched a moth batter itself against a yellow porch light for twenty minutes; there was a frantic, desperate dignity in that struggle that I hear echoed in Clare Easdown’s vocals and production. The recording doesn’t hide its seams, and it shouldn’t. This is music about the hyper-vigilance required just to exist in public spaces the keys held like claws between knuckles, the heavy breathing suppressed to hear the footsteps behind you.
The song addresses the visceral fear of the nocturnal commute for women, but it refuses to stay in the shadows. It morphs into a protest anthem, a collective demand for the simple right to occupy space without a calculated exit strategy. It’s a raw experience that lingers in the back of your throat like the smell of rain on hot asphalt. By the time the climax hits, the initial vulnerability has curdled into a spirited, righteous anger.
If we stopped treating the fear of the walk home as an inevitable weather pattern, what kind of world would we finally be allowed to see in the dark?
