No. 140 - Violent Femmes’ “Add It Up” changed my life

Constance Brichford was the new kid in school, but the least annoying kid at camp

May 08, 2026

This Song Changed My Life is an independent music publication featuring weekly essays from people all around the world about the songs that mean the most to them. Created (and illustrated) by Grace Lilly.

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• 4 min read •

The summer before 7th grade, my family moved to a small town in West Virginia. While the towns I had previously lived in were by no means huge cities, they were university towns with a lot going on.

Our new house was half a mile up a hill with 70 feet of vertical gain (in a word, steep) and we were further separated from town by 3 miles on a four-lane highway. I would not be riding my bike to school, nor to the movies, nor to the local pet store to purchase crickets for my pet lizard (RIP Cornelius!) anytime soon. At 13, I found myself with less autonomy than I had at 11. While I think I understood objectively that this was due to the authority of geography rather than societal or parental rules, 13 isn’t a great age to surrender freedom for any reason.

I was also at an age where you discover that being a smart girl can be a social liability. One of my new friends stole my straight-A report card out of the book where I had stashed it and showed it to everyone, evidence that I thought I was smarter than the rest of them. They all seemed to agree that I was a show-off and a snob, despite the fact that she was the one flashing the report card around while I was clearly trying to grab it back.

After an alienating school year, with hours spent waiting to do anything (for the school bus, for rides from parents to go anywhere or do anything) the summer rolled around and I went back to camp for two weeks. Camp can be a refuge for many kids and I was ready to go. My best friend and I were doing the High Low Adventure program, so in addition to the usual water-based activities, we were doing trips away from the base, for spelunking, rock climbing, and a high-ropes course.

On one trip from the camp, we realized the standard issue big white van didn’t have enough seatbelts for everyone. One camper would need to go with the two other counselors in their personal car, while everyone else rode in the van. The car-driving counselors chose me to tag along. The backseat of the small, ’80s-make Toyota sedan was littered with indie magazines, sketchbooks, and other effects of liberal arts college kids. Not in so many words, the counselors let me know that of all the annoying kids present, I had been selected as least annoying. Specifically, our sole male counselor was also riding in the car and I could be trusted not to be weird about it.

Constance (right) and some of her fellow campers

Whatever the reason, I had arrived. Windows down, mix tape on, I listened to them discuss the other counselors and their friends at school — who was dating who, what really happened to the Counselor in Training who was not invited back (failed the lifeguard training). They let it slip that I was not alone in finding a certain fellow camper extremely irritating; I was delighted to learn that my judgement in this was sound. They even laughed at a joke I made.

The tape was like nothing I had ever heard before but I’m sure it was pretty standard ’90s college radio fare. The song that stands out most in memory was “Add it Up” by the Violent Femmes, because of the curse words, obviously. As it suddenly dawned on these 19-year-olds that playing the actual lyrics of the song might get them in trouble with the camp director, they lunged for the volume knob. Not quite in time. Although the song makes it very clear where it’s heading, they didn’t make the connection until the first “screw” of the second verse. Strict vigilance was maintained until the F-bombs stopped dropping in verse three. At the end of the trip, I was sworn to secrecy about what I had heard, both on the tape and in the car.

There were other songs on the tape but “Add it Up” is the one that burned into my memory, with its manic energy, propulsive beats, and of course, forbidden lyrics. The song was a window into a future where I would be interesting, cool enough to hang, where I wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone else in order to make and keep friends. Listening to the song, I felt like these camp counselors saw something in me no one else saw, not other adults, and certainly not my peers in my new hometown. After an incredibly isolating year, this affirmation could not have come at a better time. ◆