B-Side Guys

Formation stories rarely come more distinctly Scandinavian than Malmö-based Egentid’s—a band born from fatherhood meetups at a preschool, where parental duties and creative ambitions found unexpected common ground. This origin reflects perfectly in “Better Man,” the focus track from their debut album Sail On, where domestic transformation becomes both inspiration and battleground.

The song’s arrangement mirrors its lyrical journey—beginning with gentle acoustic intimacy before gradually introducing fuller instrumentation that suggests growing confidence and resolve. This buildup creates emotional momentum without sacrificing the track’s essential vulnerability, allowing listeners to experience both uncertainty and determination as complementary rather than contradictory forces.

At the heart of “Better Man” lies a linguistic duality that English-speaking listeners might miss but Scandinavian audiences will immediately grasp. When the narrator intones “I’m gonna be a better man/Or gonna be a bitter man,” he’s playing with a near-homophone that creates both stark opposition and inevitable proximity—the thin line between self-improvement and resentment. This wordplay isn’t mere cleverness but the song’s conceptual cornerstone, suggesting how closely linked positive and negative outcomes can be when navigating life transitions.

The imagery of “crossing borders” and entering “the light” suggests liminal spaces between past identities and future possibilities. This threshold metaphor extends throughout, with references to leaving jobs, settling down, and finding places to heal establishing life changes as spiritual journeys rather than mere practical adjustments. When coupled with religious undertones (“been working for the lord”), these transitions acquire almost mystical significance.

Tambourine Studios’ production work provides enough polish to enhance the material without sacrificing authenticity. Producer Wallentin Rickardsson—known for collaborations with The Radio Dept.—brings experience with dreamy atmospherics that complements Egentid’s songwriting, creating sonic environments where contemplation and forward motion coexist.

The repeated mantra “It’s gonna get better” in the bridge reveals both determination and uncertainty—a self-reassurance that acknowledges improvement isn’t guaranteed. When followed immediately by “It’s now or never,” urgency enters the equation, suggesting that transformational windows close if not seized.

In crafting music from limited windows of “egentid” (personal time) between parental responsibilities, these musicians have transformed constraint into creative fuel. “Better Man” succeeds because it refuses easy resolution, instead occupying the fertile territory between aspiration and doubt—precisely where most meaningful human growth occurs.