Kingston, ON’s Quirk-Rocker Five.X.Five Unleashes Sardonic Pop-Punk Anthem “You Will Be Fine (And Other Lies)”
Listen closely to “You Will Be Fine (And Other Lies),” the latest single from Kingston, ON quirk-rocker Five.X.Five. What sounds to the idle ear like a jaunty, upbeat anthem is actually something closer to what its sardonic title suggests: a wry, vaguely surreal, sometimes even horrific portrait of life under watchful eyes.
Like a guided missile flying not over but straight into the proverbial cuckoo’s nest, the irresistibly immediate track rockets us into the dark heart of an unspecified institution where there’s “No TV allowed in the breakfast room” and “You stare at the wall like a friend.” Amid the enforced quiet, the only noise comes from the nameless authorities who “shout the punishment/ For mounting your own defence.”
The jubilant pop-punk of the track is energizing and triumphant, the lyrical sentiments less so. Or are they?
“‘You Will Be Fine’ is about defiance and survival,” explains the brainy, beguiling Five.X.Five, who’s known in his daily life as Matej Novak. “It’s about advocating for and relying on yourself because the systems put in place to help can also be used to take advantage of you. It’s about realizing that everything ends, and you have to make the best of the time you have.”
The first single from his simultaneously released debut album, Grackle, “You Will Be Fine” vindicates Novak’s love for ’90s indie/alternative sounds. It’s a two-and-a-half-minute blast of California-style jackhammer action that belies his actual background as a child of Prague and a current resident of Kingston. But that geographical life’s path isn’t the only unconventional thing about his CV. The epitome of a late bloomer, Novak didn’t start recording as Five.X.Five—or under any name, really—until 30 years after he first picked up a guitar. Instead, he pursued a more traditional path of school, career and family—until one day, on a whim, he reached out via TikTok to longstanding hero Billy the Kid for singing and songwriting lessons. What ensued was a wholly unexpected writing and recording partnership that yielded several rafts of singles, including “If the Water” and “Fireflies, Forever.”
Their collaboration reaches its culmination in Grackle, an 11-song, two-years-in-the-making opus that’s brimming with instantly indelible hooks and riffs. The music embellishes Novak’s ’90s fixation with garnishes of post-Britpop Britrock, New Wave, and shoegaze. Unlike “You Will Be Fine,” some of the numbers are explicitly autobiographical: “Weak Without Your Blessing” is about one of Novak’s earliest memories, “VHS Tapes in the Mail” is about living in Prague in the early aughts, and “wordswordswords” is about “craving from someone what they can’t provide,” he says, cryptically.
Billy co-produced with Jesse Gander at the latter’s Rain City Recorders studio in Vancouver, as well as contributing harmonies, keys, and guitars. The rhythm section was borrowed from alt-pop band Hyaenas, with Sophie Foster providing bass and violin and Jen Foster handling drums and percussion.
But throughout, the focus remains firmly on Novak—excuse us, Five.X.Five—and his idiosyncratic, off-kilter yet thoroughly relatable way of making sense of the world.
“If there’s a common thread running through the album,” he says, “it’s the lengths we go to tolerate our circumstances—out of self-preservation or as a tool of self-improvement. We’ve all been through it the last several years. These 11 tracks are meant to help everyone feel less alone.”
And that’s the kind of gift you don’t mind waiting 30 years for. Put on Grackle and know you’ll be fine—for real this time.
Hi Matej! Good to meet you! Care to introduce yourselves to the readers?
Hey there, thanks so much! I tend to say my first name rhymes with “pâté,” but I realize not everyone pronounces that the same. It should give you the general idea, though. I’m a husband, father, animal lover, former goth, proud nerd, professional writer, amateur human, and the friendliest curmudgeon you ever met.
Like that old cliché, “longtime listener, first time caller,” I spent 30 years playing guitar before writing and recording my first songs. Maybe I’m a late bloomer. Call it a midlife crisis. There’s a Japanese saying that sums it up well: “If you get on the wrong train, get off at the next station — the longer it takes you to get off, the more expensive the return trip will be.” I’m living proof it’s never too late to start.
“You Will Be Fine (And Other Lies)” has such a vibrant, upbeat sound — when did you realize that pairing dark lyrics with bright melodies was your sweet spot?
Sometimes these things sneak up on me and I don’t realize them until they’re in the rear view. I didn’t set out to write an upbeat song with darker lyrics, but in the end, I’m glad it worked out that way. One of my favourite shows is Twin Peaks, which is all about the darkness below the surface of a seemingly idyllic small town. The surface level brightness is the invitation, the way into heavier topics. These are things we can’t and shouldn’t ignore about the world or ourselves. And sometimes you need a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down. I also love a good juxtaposition.
You first reached out to Billy the Kid through TikTok. What gave you the nerve to do that — and what was your reaction when she wrote back?
I was just thinking about this the other day. In most instances, I’d consider myself an early adopter, but there have been some notable outliers, including TikTok. In the wake of Covid, all bets were off and at the very end of 2021, I finally created an account. It didn’t take long for the algorithm to do its thing and serve me up one of Billy’s videos. She used to have a punk band called Billy and the Lost Boys and in the mid-aughts I caught one of their videos on a MuchMusic program called the Wedge. It was called “You Get What Everyone Gets (You Get a Lifetime)” — I’m a sucker for a long title — and it immediately became one of my favourite songs. Unfortunately, I hadn’t really kept up with them, or her subsequent solo career, but when I saw her on TikTok, it all came flooding back. I figured I had nothing to lose, so I left her a comment saying how much I love that song. She replied with an emoji (
, I believe) and I remember feeling so glad I had reached out. Fast forward three years and we’ve written dozens of songs together, she’s produced and played on most of my tracks and she’s such a huge part of my musical journey. Sometimes it pays to stay up late watching TV.
What do you think it is about ’90s alt-rock and indie that still feels so creatively alive to you today?
It was shocking the first time I heard the label “classic” used for music from that era, but at the same time, I saw younger kids discovering their parents’ CD and tape collections (and band T-shirts!). Everything is cyclical and there’s something about the tactile, ephemeral nature of a mixtape that will always resonate with people. Look at the resurgence of vinyl. Whether you like the physical object as a collectible/piece of art or you prefer the warm analogue nature of the sound, a record gives you something that’s hard to replicate with technology.
There are some people who will tell you that there are no “bands” anymore, that guitar music is dead and everything is clinical and calculated these days. I think that’s crap. Incorporating elements of other genres and eras keeps music feeling fresh and alive. The ’90s brought deeper, darker topics to the mainstream and I think in a time when more and more people are more willing to share their feelings and struggles with the world, they find a kinship with the kind of music that was born in that era.
Now I’m getting way too philosophical about this. Rock good. Make sad. Then happy.
As someone who’s lived in Prague and Kingston, do you feel like geography shapes your songwriting — or is it more about internal landscapes for you?
I believe places have memory. Kingston was the first capital of Canada. It was originally built out of mostly wood, but after a massive fire, it was rebuilt using limestone, a defining feature (and nickname) of the city to this day. We lived through a pretty serious flood in Prague. Many of the buildings near the river have memorial markers to show the highest level the water reached. These events become a part of the fabric of a place.
I’ve written songs inspired by experiences in both cities. I’ve become part of their memory and they’re a part of mine. I guess there’s something about the “soul” of a place I connect with. I’ve been lucky to have important, formative moments in a lot of places, but Kingston and Prague feel like home.
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