The official, uncut version of Babybird‘s Unloveable video, directed by Johnny Depp, who also played guitar on the track:
The video, shot back in September in Herts, England, is based on the short story “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge,” written by Ambrose Bierce in 1890. “This particular version was just a bit too intense for the folks over at Yahoo’s Standards and Practices department,” Babybird’s label, Unison, wrote on their YouTube page. “However, we believe that this version gives the viewer the true vision intended by both the artist and director.” Me, I like it, and I like how they sound a bit like Elbow. Lyrics like and we’re floating down a sewer pipe like kittens in a bag in a love song? That’s pretty great.
Let me fall out a window with you. Place your hand here, upon the jut of my hip, where it rests in your sleep, where you grip my body to yours from behind. Let me lean back, just a little off balance. Let me feel the center of my gravity shift and slide. Place your other hand like a cradle for my head, as it hangs backward, trying to get the perfect shot of something sixteen stories below. The shape of you, the perfect heft of you, let it join me as I slip. Let your eyes widen in surprise, then smile with me. Let your lips find mine as they do in the dark. The sound of our clothing against the sill, the relaxed, casual laughter that will explode from my chest, these sounds will protect us, keep us safe, as we listen, absently, for impact, the beginning of the end.
Before that, (our collision with the indifferent ground), let me float away with you, hands twisted in the cords of a enormous balloon, brightly coloured, impossibly huge. Place your trust in my wrists, where they strain at the ballast of our weight. Let me drift on the wind in your tightest embrace. Arms screaming, my fingers numb. Under our feet will be the sea, the turquoise horizon a feather shimmering gently away. Let us endure until land, our anatomy twisted into one tangled shape. Aceept that we are stranded. Let me make fire as you wave at ships, as you hold me close at the curve of your hip. The warmth of our totality, the sweet, delicious taste of our kiss, these things will protect us, keep us fed, as we signal, unwavering, for delivery, until the rescue ships.