B-Side Guys

Dogs understand grief better than humans most of the time. Dillon Hoock’s “Tough & Thin” builds around this quiet truth, placing domestic animals alongside beloved partners in the hierarchy of what actually matters when everything else falls apart. The track emerges from that strange territory where love songs and loss songs occupy the same emotional space, refusing to separate joy from mourning because real relationships contain both simultaneously.

Hoock’s description of the song as either love song or loss meditation reveals his understanding that these categories often overlap. The lyrics move between present-tense devotion and past-tense memory with the fluid timeline that defines grief processing. When he sings about dogs humming while his partner plays tunes, the scene feels both currently happening and permanently lost, creating the kind of temporal confusion that makes simple classification impossible.

The folk-americana foundation provides the perfect vehicle for this emotional complexity. Traditional structures allow space for the narrative to unfold naturally, while occasional “rockin & rollin” elements prevent the track from becoming too precious about its own sadness. Hoock’s vocal delivery maintains conversational intimacy that makes listeners feel like confidants rather than audience members.

Specific imagery carries the song’s emotional weight effectively. References to “seven Spanish angels” and drinking the ocean suggest someone grappling with loss through both spiritual and mythological frameworks. The line “I set fire to the notion of my sanity” acknowledges how grief requires abandoning rational coping mechanisms in favor of whatever strange rituals actually provide comfort.

The chorus about times getting “tough and thin” while still “learning about you darling” captures the paradox of deepening understanding through absence. Hoock presents continuing discovery about someone no longer physically present as both consolation and additional source of pain. The track’s final verse about places that “would never hold a flame” suggests that geography becomes irrelevant when measured against personal connection.

Rather than resolving these contradictions, Hoock lets them coexist within the song’s four-minute runtime, creating space for anyone navigating their own simultaneous experiences of love and loss.