2026-7 started as a comment section. We'd been posting our music on TikTok and Instagram for a while, and the haters found us. Not just any haters: the ones who arrived to declare that the 67 meme was finished. They'd clearly just heard about it.
The comments are right there in the lyrics. "This is trash." "Out of style." "The worst one yet." "Dead internet." Our favorite was someone explaining we were "so bad it's good already," which takes real confidence to post on day one. Also appearing, suddenly, in large numbers with significant likes: a wave of comments declaring we'd become very popular in Israel. This is the old "big in Japan" reappropriated. The claim of exotic faraway success in a place nobody in the comments can verify. We found it genuinely wonderful.
Then "AI slop." We do use AI. Proudly, specifically, in the ratio of 67% AI to 33% bad human decisions made at two in the morning. That's not a confession. That's the aesthetic. The name wasn't an accident either.
The title encodes the entire response. You tell us it's 2026 and 67 is over? Correction: it's 2026-7. That's the argument, in full. The number absorbs the year. You tried to use the calendar against us and we turned it into another 67. There's a geometry to that which satisfies us.
We knew when we were writing it that this song isn't for someone discovering 67 for the first time. The references are specific. "Big in Tel Aviv." "Nice try diddy." The AI bit. These land for people who've been watching the comment section with us, haters included. Especially the haters. A song made for the people invested enough to be annoyed is a song made for people who care. And caring is always the point.
The outro says everything that needs to be said: "It's over... / Yeah? / Sure." We're not arguing. Six-seven. 2026-7. See you back again.
Perfect State