Welcome to Boombox Blitz, an artist spotlight series showcasing overlooked singers, songwriters and musicians who are quietly taking over the world.
“You ain’t gonna die from a broken heart,” Ruthie Collins brandishes, carefree and idealistic. She’s already had her heart ripped apart, so she has nothing left to lose. But when the wine-soaked haze vanishes, she sees herself for the first time in a very long time. Pain in all its forms is essential to our growth, and Collins, who just released her long-awaited debut album, Get Drunk & Cry, illustrates bottoming-out, the cause of her destructive behavior and what she did to reclaim her sanity. “Love makes you crazy. It makes you weak. The things I said. The things I put up with. I pray that one day I’ll have the clarity to see it all for what is is ⎯⎯ to accept that he’ll always be a part of my story,” she states in the final few frames of her accompanying short film.
Akin to Beyonce’s acclaimed Lemonade visual album, Collins depicts her own traumatic journey, which opens up on her crying on the bathroom floor after a night of binge drinking at the local pub. “How did I get here?” she flounders in soiled mascara, red-eyed and distressed. “Oh my god. How did I get here? How many drinks did I have last night?”
“He is just…a boy,” she reminds herself, images of her beguiling and lethal ex flash across her mind in sinister echoes. “It’s like his hooks are so deep. He’s everywhere. My god, it’s almost like a song, like I’m a moth to a flame. Maybe, he’s the devil I know,” she suggests before the clip widens to depict her achingly-raw, deeply-moving story. It’s as poetic as it is brutal, universal, personal, grim, empowering. The heartache might have appeared insurmountable at the time, but it doesn’t have to end you. It’s only the beginning.
Featuring five tracks from her album, including “Pink Bic Lighter” and “Getting Out There,” the 25-minute Get Drunk & Cry video is submerged in fatal detail. Collins exposes each excruciating scar, the wounds which won’t stop bleeding, the throbbing unease of her heart, without concern of being judged for it. Through her own revelatory pilgrimage, the viewer can come to a better understanding of their own.