Mr. 67 is the song that takes TK's coffee moment and runs with it. Once 67 became a way to rate things, it became a way to live. Your day was a 6-7. Your math test was a 6-7. The pizza you had for lunch was a 6-7. The meaning kind of dissolved and turned into a vibe, and we wanted a song that lived inside that vibe.
What we kept coming back to while writing this one is how freeing 67 actually is as a rating. We grew up online, where everything was either ten out of ten or a complete disaster. There was no middle. Nothing was allowed to just be okay. 67 gave a whole generation permission to say "this is fine, this is whatever, I'm not gonna stress about it." That's a kind of quiet rebellion against the engagement economy.
It's also funny. That's the thing nobody talks about. The rating only works because of the deadpan. "That sunset? Six-seven." "Your mom's cooking? Six-seven." The comedy is in refusing to be impressed and refusing to be disappointed at the same time. It's a Buster Keaton kind of energy.
The bridge of this song is the part we mean most. "The whole world's mid and that's perfectly alright." If you grew up on internet earnestness, on hyperbole, on every video being "INSANE" and every meal being "the best ever," 67 feels like a window opening. You're allowed to think things are fine. You're allowed to not have a take. That's huge.
Mr. 67 the character is half TK, half every kid who picked up the rating and made it their language. He's not a hero, he's not a villain, he's not even particularly interesting. That's the joke. That's also the point. He's just a guy who rates things. And somehow that's enough.
We made the song short on purpose. Just under two minutes. 67 doesn't need a five-minute meditation. The whole point is brevity. Hit it, vibe with it, move on with your day. Six-seven.
Everything's a 6-7 if you squint just right. That's the whole song. That's the whole bit.
Perfect State