Chinaboi’s most recent release, “Nightmares” is a confession set against a pulse. With the opening touching loop and steady drumline, you realize it’s not one of those going to the store driving tracks, it’s the kind where you dive headfirst into what you’re going to get lost in an artist’s mind.
The song treads dark territory of survivor’s guilt, grief, and addiction, but what makes “Nightmares” a gut-punch is that its principal, near universal, fear is the nightmare of surrender. Chinaboi exposes the terror of being forced to table dreams and frames it as a shadow that exists even in the quietest of moments. This is not dramatization, it’s somatic experience translated into sound. Each beat, each time the loop plays again, is like a heartbeat in an otherwise empty room, emphasizing the weight of the themes involved.
The lyrics are just as in your face. Chinaboi is not just recounting his struggles, he is purging them, welcoming listeners into the emotional aftermath of his battles. Lines land decisively, cut deep, but there’s a draw that has you listening even as the gravity of the lyrics hits you. The balance of heaviness and rhythm reflects the duality of reckoning with inner demons, staring them down, and continuing to trudge ahead, step by step, down the line.
“Nightmares” is a lesson in minimalism in service of maximalism. The ghostly loop keeps cycling with a sort of can’t help yourself compulsion, and the drums drive forward consistently, somewhere between anchoring and forever-advancing. It’s a delicate line, enough repetition to draw you in with the emotional gravity of the track without making the weight overwhelming. In that way, the show matches its thematic centre, an unapologetic acknowledgment of the ever-presence of fear, mourning, and self-loathing.
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