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Following February’s “Doomsday”, dream-pop outfit Sunday (1994) return with another emotionally charged single that blurs the line between romance and tragedy. Their latest release, “Rain” continues the band’s exploration of vulnerability and longing.
“We are thrilled to unveil Devotion, our second EP—a fevered companion to our first,” the band shares. “Each song converses, conspires, or continues the story of one that came before. We won’t tell you which; discovery is far more divine. Call it a psalm for the disenchanted. Or… an EP. Whatever you prefer.”
On “Rain”, Sunday (1994) describe a love so intense it borders on ruin:
“A devotion so deep it borders on doom, where love clings to the wreckage of crime and consequence. If fate demands suffering, then let it be shared; whether in a lover’s arms or behind prison bars.”
Melodic Mag praises the track for “testing the strength of devotion”, noting its ability to merge emotional gravity with dreamy sonic textures. Much like “Doomsday”, the song cloaks unsettling emotions in shimmering, cinematic soundscapes—solidifying the band’s signature style of heartache rendered in haze and reverb.
At its heart, “Rain” is a ballad about radical, almost dangerous devotion, where love isn’t a clean break from the past, but a commitment to stand beside someone in the mess of it.
From the opening verse, there’s an eerie sweetness. The narrator calls her partner “baby doll”, romanticizing even his rough edges: his silence, his sharp jawline, his troubled history. There’s a kind of fatalistic tenderness here. She knows he’s broken. She knows the danger. And yet, she stays.
This is devotion with teeth.
Lines like “Your daddy got that Old Testament kind of temper” point to generational trauma and inherited rage. It paints a father figure whose wrath casts a heavy shadow, one his son seems fated to carry. Yet the narrator doesn’t shy away from this reality. She offers her devotion not to an idealized version of him, but to the flawed, wounded man before her. The one shaped by pain and marked by the past.
This line is a clear reflection of that:
“You’ve become a young re-offender / But I love you, yeah, I love you, remember”
It’s less about forgiveness and more about remembering the journey they’ve walked together. The narrator’s love is not a simple act of pardoning his mistakes, but a commitment to the shared history they’ve created. One filled with hardship, grief, and the weight of the past.
Their bond isn’t fragile or easily broken; it’s forged in the fire of their struggles. It’s in the acceptance of his flaws, his relapses, and the understanding that their connection is not contingent on perfection but on enduring together, despite everything.
The final line hits like a quiet revelation:
“And your clothes are soaked / So I know you saw it too”
The rain, once a symbol of sadness and uncertainty, now serves as proof. He felt it too. The love, though bruised and burdened by its own pain, is mutual. Shared. It’s real.
Earlier in the song, there’s a lingering doubt: Did it even happen if you didn’t feel it too? The narrator questions the authenticity of her emotions, wondering if her suffering matters if it’s not witnessed by her partner.
But in that final moment, the rain becomes the confirmation. It happened. They both stood in it together. It wasn’t just her drowning in pain, it was a shared storm.
So the song isn’t just about feeling something deeply; it’s about being seen in that feeling. It’s about knowing that, in the middle of your emotional chaos, you’re not alone. Because sometimes, the greatest relief isn’t in escaping the storm, but in knowing someone else is standing in it with you.
“Rain” isn’t just about loving someone difficult. It’s about loving someone in the middle of their worst moments. About choosing a life that’s rough around the edges but meaningful in its grit.
Sunday (1994) calls this “a devotion so deep it borders on doom” and the song lives right there at that knife’s edge. Where love is a tether, not a lifeboat. Where staying isn’t a virtue, but a necessity.
For fans of slow-burning intimacy, “Rain” is another evocative chapter in Sunday (1994)’s growing discography, proving once again that their strength lies in capturing the ache between connection and collapse.
The song is available with a music video on Youtube, go watch it.
Their previous track, “Doomsday” has been highly praised by our team as one of the best songs of 2025.
[Verse]
Baby doll, that′s what you call me on the telephone
You know that I like it, you’re a man
Of very few words but got a jawline
That can cut through the silence
You were once a young offender
Your daddy got that Old Testament kind of temper
I′ll love you from the slammer to Heaven
If we’re drinking in bars or if you’re living behind them
You′re all I′ve got, I’m not concerned
Is evil born, or is it something you learn?
Now I see the world through your eyes
Every black cloud needs to cry
[Chorus]
If I don′t have you, then I’ve got nothing to lose, it′s true
Did it even happen if you didn’t see it too?
Now, the rain starts to fall
[Verse]
I wear the ring, you gave to me from the vending machine
You got down on one knee, we made a home
Surrounded by cobbled stone and methadone
But I′m safe in your arms
You’ve become a young re-offender
But I love you, yeah, I love you, yeah, I love you, remember
[Chorus]
If I don′t have you, then I’ve got nothing to lose, it′s true
Did it even happen if you didn’t see it too?
Now, the rain starts to fall
[Bridge]
I daydream, a dark thing
When I′m on my own, I’d eat a bullet
If you never came home
[Chorus]
If I don′t have you, then I’ve got nothing to lose, it′s true
Did it even happen if you didn’t see it too?
Now, the rain starts to fall
Now, it starts to fall
[Outro]
And your clothes are soaked
So I know you saw it too
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