B-Side Guys

From Shellharbour’s southern shores to Sydney’s urban sprawl, Jack Lincoln’s Duckboi project has evolved like a tide pool gradually connecting to deeper waters. “I Don’t Want To” marks a turning point where personal crisis opens into philosophical possibility, riding a Lydian-tinged wave between despair and discovery.

Working with longtime collaborator Nicolas Serrao, Lincoln has crafted something that pushes beyond the Wollongong surf rock scene’s usual parameters. That coastal heritage remains in the song’s fluid movement, but it’s been transformed by metropolitan complexity and the avant-garde spirit of Ornette Coleman’s free jazz explorations.

The production anchors itself in the fusion of bass guitar and Moog synthesizer, creating a foundation that feels both organic and otherworldly. This deliberate blend mirrors the song’s central tension between earthbound struggle (“there were days I couldn’t get out of bed”) and cosmic acceptance (“but maybe that’s good?”).

Lincoln’s use of the Lydian mode’s raised fourth degree serves as more than musical decoration—it’s emotional architecture. Each time that distinctive interval appears, it lifts the track’s gaze skyward, suggesting possibility rather than escape. It’s the sound of someone looking up from their bedsheets and noticing the window for the first time in weeks.

The lyrics map the territory between optimistic nihilism and simple survival. When Lincoln observes “Lonely is the person delusional to believe in themselves,” it’s not a statement of defeat but a recognition of cosmic scale. The following line “They think we’re crazy” lands like a shared joke between fellow travelers in meaninglessness.

That transition from solo bedroom project to dynamic duo has brought new depth to Duckboi’s sound. The arrangement breathes with the kind of confidence that comes from long friendship—you can hear the trust between Lincoln and Serrao in how each musical element supports rather than competes.

What began in 2018 as an expression of mental struggle has evolved into something more nuanced. The repeated refrain “I don’t want to fade this life away” transforms from plea to manifesto across the song’s runtime, each repetition gaining strength from its acknowledgment of life’s fundamental absurdity.

Where earlier singles like “Going to the Beach” played with psychedelic surf imagery, “I Don’t Want To” dives deeper into the philosophical undertow. It’s the sound of someone who’s stopped fighting the current and learned to navigate it instead.

This more “polished and refined sound” doesn’t sacrifice the project’s essential strangeness—it just finds new ways to channel it. Like the coastal waters that shaped Lincoln’s musical beginnings, “I Don’t Want To” suggests that meaning might be found not in fighting meaninglessness, but in learning to float within it.