WAIN’s debut EP, Still Colorful, feels like a deep breath after a long stretch of holding it in. It’s emotional, cinematic, and honest—an eight-track collection that doesn’t try to be flashy but still hits hard in all the right places. You can tell this is the work of someone who not only knows how to produce and mix music beautifully but also knows how to feel it. Every song carries a piece of his story: uncertainty, self-discovery, and the quiet moments that come between all of that. The opening track, “Three or Four,” eases you in gently. It’s soft, thoughtful, and full of subtle details that pull you closer the longer you listen. The piano is calm, the atmosphere feels wide and open, and WAIN’s voice floats somewhere between confidence and hesitation. There’s something really human about that balance—the way he sounds like he’s figuring things out in real time. It’s not just a song; it’s like the start of a conversation with yourself. Then comes “Take Me Home,” which is probably the emotional centerpiece of the EP. It’s the kind of song you put on during a late-night drive when you’re not sure where you’re heading but you just need to move. The synths are warm and full, the melody swells and breaks beautifully, and WAIN’s vocals carry this quiet ache that’s impossible to fake. The lyrics talk about belonging and longing—about searching for that place or person that makes you feel grounded again. It’s cinematic but not overdone. Every sound, every beat feels like it has a purpose.
“Hit the Ground” picks the pace back up with something more rhythmic and upbeat. It’s catchy, but it’s not mindless pop—it still carries emotion, just dressed up in brighter colors. You can hear confidence in WAIN’s delivery here, like he’s starting to step into his own light. There’s a resilience to it, a feeling of standing up after falling one too many times. The production is crisp and tight, full of those small textures that make you want to replay it just to catch everything. The dreamy “I Wish I Could Fly” comes next, and it feels exactly like its title. It’s airy and freeing, built around floating synths and layered vocals that seem to lift right off the ground. The song captures that mix of sadness and hope that comes with wanting more from life—wanting to rise above fear, expectations, or just the weight of the everyday. It’s one of those songs you close your eyes to, and for a few minutes, you forget where you are. “Breathe” slows things down again. It’s minimal, open, and incredibly calming. There’s this beautiful mix of organic and electronic elements that feels very WAIN—warm piano, subtle beats, and ambient layers that wrap around you. The message is simple but important: just breathe. In a world that never stops moving, it’s a reminder to pause, to exist without rushing to the next thing. It feels like a moment of reflection halfway through the record, both musically and emotionally. Then there’s “We Don’t Belong,” one of the most vulnerable songs on the EP. The tone is sad, but not hopeless. It’s more like acceptance—like realizing that not fitting in can actually be freeing. WAIN’s voice carries this quiet ache that hits you right in the chest, and the production leaves enough space for that emotion to sink in. It’s raw in a way that feels brave. You can tell this song comes from a real place of reflection and maybe even pain, but it’s handled with care. “The Yellow Sign” follows, and it stands out for being the most experimental track on the project. It’s darker, more abstract, and full of small production details that twist and turn as the song goes on. There’s tension in it—both sonically and emotionally—as if WAIN is trying to make sense of something he can’t quite name. The title itself feels symbolic, maybe about caution or awareness. Whatever it means, it adds depth to the story of the EP. This song shows that WAIN isn’t afraid to take risks or explore the messy, uncomfortable parts of emotion. And then, finally, comes “Colorful.” It’s bright, hopeful, and the perfect ending. After all the reflection and uncertainty of the earlier tracks, “Colorful” feels like the sun coming back out. The production is light and open, with sparkling synths and smooth rhythms that carry a sense of release. Lyrically, it’s about acceptance—about embracing who you are and finding beauty in all the flaws and chaos that come with being human. It doesn’t feel like a happy ending forced for the sake of it; it feels earned. The title of the EP makes perfect sense here—it’s about life being colorful because of its ups and downs, not in spite of them.
What really makes Still Colorful stand out is how balanced it feels. The production is polished but never overdone, the writing is emotional without being dramatic, and the performances feel real. WAIN clearly knows what he’s doing behind the board, but what’s even more impressive is how he uses his technical skill to serve the emotion of the songs. Every sound feels intentional, from the smallest background texture to the way the vocals are layered. But maybe the best part is that it doesn’t sound like someone trying to prove themselves—it sounds like someone being themselves. There’s no ego in it, no sense of chasing trends. Just honesty, craft, and heart. That’s rare, especially in a debut project. Listening to Still Colorful feels like getting to know someone quietly, piece by piece. You can hear the uncertainty, the growth, the hope—it’s all there. WAIN doesn’t just tell his story; he makes you feel like part of it. That’s the magic of this EP: it’s not just about him. It’s about all of us trying to make sense of life, to find our color again after things go dark. In the end, Still Colorful is a beautiful introduction to an artist who clearly has something special. It’s emotional, thoughtful, and real. Every song brings you closer to understanding who WAIN is—and maybe a little bit of who you are, too.
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