one queer thing: durand bernarr's "company"
one queer thing: durand bernarr's "company"
a sultry serenade redefining queer intimacy π΅ππ
tl;dr: durand bernarr's "company" is a silky-smooth r&b track that redefines queer intimacy. with its vulnerable lyrics, lush production, and bernarr's vocal acrobatics, it's more than just a song - it's a safe space for queer desire and a celebration of consensual, shame-free love. in a world of loud pride anthems, "company" whispers a revolution.
hola mis amores,
it's thursday, and you know what that means - time to celebrate another queer thing that's got me feeling some type of way.
as always, we're rolling with bell hooks' definition of 'queer' as "being about the self that is at odds with everything around it and that has to invent and create and find a place to speak and to thrive and to live." in a world that often tries to stuff us into neat little boxes, this definition feels like a breath of fresh air - or maybe more like a strong cafecito on a sleepy san juan morning.
today's selection is from 2020, when i was stuck in dc during the covid apocalypse. let me set the image for you: me, in sweatpants, hair a mess, frantically scrolling through spotify like it was the last lifeboat on the titanic. between teaching myself to cook vegan meals and pretending i enjoyed zoom happy hours, i was on a mission to find new bops to keep me sane and inspired. at the time, i was in a very dark mental space and was in the midst of the beginning of the end of my relationship with my then-partner. so much of it seems like a blur in retrospect, still. music became my escape, my disassociation agent. and spotify was serving me music like a 24/7 diner and, believe me, i was eating it all up like it was my abuela's arroz con gandules on christmas eve.
that's when i stumbled upon today's track - a song so smooth it could make even my awkward pandemic dance moves look sexy. it's all about that tender moment between two men, one of them new to the whole "company" thing, if you catch my drift. and let me tell you, it's rare to hear this kind of raw, beautiful vulnerability in music, especially with vocals that are smooth, beautiful, and just simply, sublime. it hit me like a chancla to the heart, taking me back to baby queer edgard at his first lgbt party, all wide-eyed and vibrating with possibility⦠and so much desire. so, mi gente, ready to dive into this sultry serenade? let's unwrap this gift durand bernarr's given us, shall we? ‘vamos!
past queer things: (7) "carmen" by olivia dean | (6) "the village" by wrabel | (5) eliza's "alone & unafraid" | (4) "for today i am a boy" by antony and the johnsons | see moreβ¦
remember - whenever a queer thing is a song, it'll get automatically added to the one queer thing spotify playlist, which you can find here.
this weekβs one queer thing: βcompanyβ by durand bernarr
todayβs pick comes from durand bernarrβs 2020 album dur&. from the first sultry notes of βcompanyβ, bernarr's voice wraps around you tighter than your tΓa's embrace at a family reunion. the production? minimal yet lush, perfectly crafted to highlight benarrβs vocals and lyrical content.
bernarr opens with "i'm good comradery / your submission's safe with me." the first two lines set the intention of the song - youβre okay with me, this is not about domination; it's about mutual trust and vulnerability. as a nonbinary person who's navigated more complex waters than the bermuda triangle, this really resonated with me. these lines set the vibe and the theme of the rest of the song so well.
now, let's talk about the elephant in the room - or should i say, the bottom in the bedroom? the song tells the story of a man meeting another man who's not used to "having company over". bernarr uses this as a metaphor for someone unfamiliar with being penetrated. in gay culture, there's often this ridiculous notion that being penetrated somehow makes you less of a man or more effeminate. please. that thinking is more outdated than a flip phone at a tech convention.
look, if you want to embrace it as an effeminate act, werk! but applying that blanket judgment to everyone? that's about as nuanced as a sledgehammer. bernarr flips this script faster than you can say "versatile" - and this is where i circle back to that first line: "your submission is safe with me". in this song, bernarr is teaching a masterclass in respect, consent, and trust, and i'm taking notes.
the chorus, too, addresses the anxiety of safety in a sexual context. "no, you're not used to having company over / so let me sing a little lullaby." bernarr's addressing the anxiety that often comes with queer intimacy, especially for those of us who've had to unlearn more shame than a catholic school survivor. (i know, i am one!) it reminds me of my first time with another man, trembling and full of anxiety. where was this song when i needed it?!? probably hanging out with my self-esteem somewhere. ah, baby gay edgard would have loved this song. iβm honestly grateful it even exists, so thank you, durand, for capturing this very queer experience so beautifully.
but the real moment is when bernarr drops this truth bomb: "we both want the same thing and even got it too / fuck what everyone thinks, it's just me and you." it's a celebration of queer desire that's as unapologetic as showing up to a white party in head-to-toe rainbow. it's two people coming together (pun absolutely intended) on their own terms, creating their own rules. it's like bernarr looked at heteronormativity and said, "no gracias, we're good over here."
in a music landscape where queer black artists are often pigeonholed, bernarr's "company" stands out. it's not just about representation; it's about nuanced storytelling that honors the complexity of queer experiences. it's saying, "hey, our stories aren't just about coming out or tragedy. sometimes, they're about joy, pleasure, and connection."
vocally, bernarr is serving runs smoother than a well-oiled vejigante mask at the ponce carnival. i really love how sultry, beautiful, masculine, vulnerable, and confident he is not just in his vocals but in the delivery of the lyrics.
and compared to other queer anthems, "company" feels refreshingly intimate to me. it's not about grand gestures or pride parade energy. it's about those quiet moments of connection that are revolutionary in their tenderness. it's the difference between a bomba performance and a soft bolero - both queer, both valid, but hitting different parts of the soul.
so what's the takeaway, familia? "company" isn't just a song - it's a manifesto for queer intimacy.
it's a reminder that our desires, our ways of loving, our very existence is not just valid, but beautiful and worthy of celebration. it's taking the shame society tried to serve us and sending it back. we rebuke this, we reject this. we favor our liberation, our pleasure, our joy, our bodies, and our love - for each other and ourselves.
until next time, keep being beautifully, unapologetically you. and remember, in the words of bernarr, "snatch it baby, your mind's in need of a vacation." so take that vacation from society's expectations.
embrace your queerness like it's the last coquito at a three kingsβ day party.
cuidate,
edgard π§‘
p.s. if you see me on university avenue in hillcrest, serenading unsuspecting passersby with my rendition of "company," no you didn't. but hey, in the spirit of bernarr, maybe it's time we all sang our queer joy a little louder, a little prouder, and a whole lot queerer. ππ½ββοΈπ€π
p.p.s. not very long ago, durand bernarr did an npr tiny desk performance which includes music from his latest album βwanderlustβ and some from βdur&β, including company. itβs so good.