The Vanns’ 2018 track, “How Was I Supposed To Know,” is a raw, devastating confession about the painful and unintended consequences of a casual, physical relationship. Its core meaning explores the tragic, one-sided attachment that forms when the protagonist breaks the “no feelings” rule, only to realize he has fallen for someone who is emotionally empty. The song is a powerful, gritty narrative that charts a person’s journey from naive “sentimental” feelings to a “detrimental” state of addiction, regret, and profound sadness.
This song is not a celebration of rock-and-roll hedonism; it is a confession from the morning after. It is the sound of a person who thought they could play with fire without getting burned, only to find themselves trapped in a prison of their own making. It is a modern tragedy about the naivety of casual love and the hollow pain of falling for an emotional void.
The Sound of Raw Honesty
Released as part of their 2018 mini-album Through The Walls, this track perfectly captures the sound of The Vanns. As an Australian indie-rock band from Wollongong, their music is not polished or clean. It is built on a foundation of raw, energetic, and emotionally honest rock. Their songs often feel like they are being played live in a sweaty, packed club, and this track is no exception.
The Through TheWalls album title itself is a perfect metaphor for the song’s themes. The music and lyrics are trying to break through the “walls” of a partner’s emotional detachment. The song feels like a desperate shout, an attempt to get a reaction from someone who is locked away. It is the sound of emotional turmoil and the messy, chaotic side of youth and relationships.
Verse 1: The “Physical” Contract and Its Breach
The song opens with the protagonist in a state of disorientation. The first word sets the entire scene: he is “wasted.” This is not just a casual state; it is a description of his life. He is lost, drunk, or high, but more importantly, he is emotionally “wasted” and depleted. He is “caught up” in his partner’s “rhythm and time,” a phrase that suggests a hypnotic, all-consuming, and almost mechanical connection.
This “rhythm” is the pulse of their physical relationship, a dance he is trapped in. He is moving to her beat, following her lead, and has lost his own sense of self. He is following her “time,” living in her chaotic schedule, which the second verse will later describe as a “piss-up.” He is not a participant in his own life anymore; he is a prisoner of hers.
The core conflict of the entire song is laid bare in the next lines. The protagonist admits that they “only said it was physical.” This was the agreement. This was the cardinal rule of their modern, casual arrangement. It was supposed to be simple, a relationship based on the body, not the heart. There were no expectations of emotional attachment.
This is the sound of a verbal contract being broken. The protagonist, by even questioning this, is the one in breach. He is the one who has failed the assignment. He is the one who could not maintain the required emotional distance.
His confusion and panic are clear. He asks himself, “So why am I getting lyrical?” This is a brilliant choice of words. “Lyrical” means to become poetic, expressive, and sentimental. He is doing the one thing he promised he would not do. He is catching feelings. He is turning a simple hookup into the subject of a “lyrical” confession, and this change terrifies him.
The verse then dives into the reason for this emotional breach. The connection is not just “physical”; it is overwhelmingly intense. The scene is “plum crazy,” a phrase that denotes a wild, chaotic, and almost animalistic passion. He describes his partner’s “eyes rolled to the back of your skull,” a raw and unfiltered image of pure ecstasy.
This is not a gentle, tender intimacy. It is a raw, primal, and powerful force. This is what makes the relationship so addictive. The physical side is not just “good”; it is “crazy.” It is an escape from reality, a shared, ecstatic oblivion.
The protagonist then explains the mechanism of his own downfall. He says it was “far too easy to galvanise” this connection during the “endless nights between your thighs.” The word “galvanise” is key. It means to shock or excite into action. He did not decide to fall in love. He was shocked into it.
The sheer, repetitive, and ecstatic power of their physical connection acted like an electric current, “galvanising” a bond that was never supposed to exist. The “endless nights” were the forge, and the “crazy” passion was the fire that created this one-sided love. He is a victim of his own pleasure, “shocked” into a state of emotional attachment against his will.
Pre-Chorus 1: The “Sentimental” Mistake
The song’s first pre-chorus is the sound of the protagonist mislabeling his new, raw emotions. He describes himself as “so sentimental.” This is the word he chooses to explain his “lyrical” state. He is feeling tender, nostalgic, and emotional. He is looking at this chaotic, “wasted” connection and seeing it through the rose-colored glasses of a new romance.
This is his great, naive mistake. He is interpreting the chemical, addictive bond of the “galvanised” nights as something “sentimental” and sweet. He is projecting a depth onto a situation that, as he will soon learn, has none. He is trying to build a house of love on a foundation of pure, physical hedonism.
This is what makes the song’s title, “How was I supposed to know / How it feels?”, so tragic. This is a question of pure, childlike naivety. He is a man who has stepped on a landmine and is in shock. He had no idea this was possible. He genuinely believed he could separate his body from his heart.
This question is a confession of his emotional inexperience. He was “supposed to know.” He was supposed to know that intimacy can be a “galvanising” force. But he did not. He walked into a fire, unprepared for the heat, and is now genuinely stunned that he has been burned. He is a casualty of his own ignorance.
Chorus: The Plea for Numbness
The chorus is a raw, desperate scream into the void. The protagonist wants to “shout it forever.” This is not a shout of joy; it is a shout of pure, unresolved frustration. He is in agony, and he needs the world to know. And what is the source of this agony? “‘Cause baby you don’t feel inside.”
This is the devastating tragedy of the song. He has fallen, and he has fallen for a brick wall. His “sentimental” feelings, his “lyrical” confession, his entire world of new, raw emotion, is being directed at a person he perceives as an emotional black hole. She is a “void.” She is empty.
This is the terror of one-sided love. He is giving everything, and she is giving nothing back. His journey from “physical” to “sentimental” is one he has taken completely alone. She is still at the starting line, still in the “physical” world, while he is miles down the road in a “lyrical” hell.
This realization leads to the song’s most desperate and twisted plea: “Can you teach me to feel how you feel?” This is a line of profound, heartbreaking genius. A person in love, who wants a connection, would ask, “Can you teach me to love you?” or “Can you feel what I feel?”
He asks the opposite. He is in so much pain from his own feelings that he sees her numbness as a superpower. He is not asking for connection; he is asking for an escape. He wants her to teach him how to be cold, empty, and “not feel inside” so that this one-sided love will finally stop hurting him. He does not want to fix the situation; he wants to survive it by becoming as hollow as she is.
Verse 2: The “Piss-Up” and the Prison
The song’s second verse is a violent shift in tone. The “plum crazy” ecstasy of the first verse is gone, replaced by a feeling of disgust and entrapment. The protagonist describes himself as “confined” and “caught up in the piss-up that’s your life.”
This is a moment of bitter clarity. The “rhythm and time” he was once “wasted” in is now revealed to be a “piss-up.” This is a common Australian and British slang term for a chaotic, drunken party, or a life that is a complete mess. He no longer sees her as an exciting, ecstatic mystery. He sees her as a “mess,” a person living a hollow, alcoholic, or party-focused existence.
And he is “confined” by it. He is in a prison. The “endless nights” are no longer a source of pleasure; they are the bars of his cage. He is trapped in her world, in her chaos, and he has lost himself completely. This is not love; this is a hostage situation.
This realization of his imprisonment triggers a memory of a past, failed escape. He says, “I said I wouldn’t do this anymore / I don’t do this anymore.” This is the voice of a relapsing addict. This is not the first time he has felt this way. He has tried to leave before. He has promised himself that he would break free from this “piss-up.”
The fact that the song is being sung in the present tense means he has failed. He is back. He is singing this song from inside the prison, having broken his own promise to himself. This adds a layer of profound self-hatred and weakness to his sadness. He is not just sad because she does not love him; he is disgusted with himself because he is too weak to leave.
Pre-Chorus 2: From “Sentimental” to “Detrimental”
The song now pivots on a single, devastating word change. The protagonist is back in the same emotional state as the first pre-chorus. But he is no longer “so sentimental.” Now, he is “so detrimental.”
This is the most important moment in the song. It is the protagonist’s one, true moment of clarity. He is no longer naive. He sees his feelings for what they are. The exact same attachment he once mislabeled as “sentimental” and sweet is now correctly identified as “detrimental.” It is harmful, it is poisonous, it is damaging, and it is killing him.
The “lyrical” feelings, the “sentimentality,” was not love. It was the “galvanised” shiver of an addiction. It was a false positive, a chemical reaction to a physical act, and it has become toxic.
The titular question is repeated, but its meaning is now profoundly tragic. “How was I supposed to know / How it feels?” is no longer a question of naivety. It is a cry of bitter, painful regret. It is no longer “How was I to know I’d fall in love?”
It is “How was I supposed to know that this feeling, which felt like love, was actually a ‘detrimental’ poison? How was I supposed to know that the one time I let my guard down, it would be for an emotional void that would drain me of everything? How was I supposed to know it would be this bad?”
The Final Breakdown: A Love That Won’t Last
The song’s extended outro is a spiral of confusion, confession, and final, hollow sadness. The protagonist is breaking down, trying to make sense of the wreckage.
He starts by questioning his own reality. He says, “And maybe I don’t feel inside.” This is a terrifying full circle. He has spent the entire song defining himself against his empty partner. He is the one who “feels,” and she is the one who “don’t feel inside.”
But now, the “detrimental” battle has left him so broken, so numb, and so “wasted” that he has become the very thing he despises. Her emptiness has infected him. He is so full of pain that he has just shut down, and he can no longer tell if he is the one “feeling sad” or the one who is just as “empty” as she is.
This moment of numb confusion gives him just enough clarity for one, objective truth. He confesses, “Honey, we won’t last / This love won’t last / Forever.” This is the only moment of certainty in the entire song. He knows, with 100% clarity, that this is doomed. He even calls it “love,” perhaps out of habit, or perhaps because it is the only word he has for this “detrimental” addiction.
He knows it is over. But knowing it and leaving it are two different things. He is still trapped. He then tries to re-center himself, to find the reason it is doomed. He lands back on his original thesis: “‘Cause baby you don’t feel inside.” He is trying to re-establish that she is the problem, not him. He is the victim, the “sentimental” fool. She is the empty one.
But this final accusation has no power. It does not make him feel better. It does not solve his problem. It does not break his addiction. It is just a hollow fact.
The entire song, with all its “lyrical” passion and “detrimental” pain, collapses into the final, simple, and devastating confession: “Maybe it’s why I’m feeling sad.”
He has gone from “wasted” to “lyrical” to “sentimental” to “confined” to “detrimental” to “numb.” And all he is left with is this simple, unresolved, and profound sadness. He is a victim of a love he was never “supposed to know,” and it has left him hollowed out, a prisoner in a “piss-up,” addicted to an emotional void.