Just over two-and-a-half minutes long, it was named “For the Damaged Coda.” Thinking back to that late night in the studio, Makino says, “Because you’re in such a cocoon, you have this very strong sensation that no one is going to listen to this music. This new song would become the album’s eleventh track, so it went unlisted on the back of the packaging. Makino figured they’d probably end up with ten songs, so she wrote out a convoluted run-on sentence and chopped it into ten parts for the track titles. The project had been behind schedule, and earlier in the recording process, their label Touch & Go told them they needed to get the album art done. Instead they layered about 20 takes of Makino doing it herself, becoming, as she says, “an army of my voice.” Makino originally envisioned it being done by a choir with lots of children, but they couldn’t afford that. Then either Makino or her bandmate Amedeo Pace - they can’t remember which - had the idea to add wordless vocals of the song’s melody: aaaaah-aah-aah-aah-aaah-aah-aah. They’d also recorded a more dramatic, extended piano vamp for the song, but weren’t sure what to do with it. They had already finished a melancholy song called “For the Damaged” where co-lead vocalist Kazu Makino sang resignedly over delicate piano and a sparse acoustic guitar. The New York–based indie rock trio were almost done making their fifth album, Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons. Late one night in early 2000, the members of Blonde Redhead were in a barn outside of Seattle that had been converted into a recording studio.

Evil morty for the damaged coda