B-Side Guys

Hangovers reveal truth through haze. JJ O’Brien’s second EP cut captures those brutal morning moments when last night’s decisions crystallize into today’s regrets, all wrapped in deceptively cheerful instrumentation that makes the pain somehow bearable.

The track’s central contradiction—upbeat energy housing melancholic content—reflects its source material perfectly. O’Brien channels Arctic Monkeys’ knack for disguising emotional weight behind danceable rhythms, while borrowing Lovejoy’s gift for making misery feel oddly comforting. His production choices mirror this duality: guitars that shimmer like sunlight through curtains you’re too nauseous to close, drums that pulse like the headache you’re trying to ignore.

“So Low” functions as emotional archaeology, each verse excavating another layer of morning-after remorse. O’Brien’s vocal delivery carries that specific exhaustion that comes from staying up too late thinking about things you can’t change. There’s vulnerability in his phrasing, the kind that emerges when you’re too tired to maintain your usual defenses.

The nostalgia threading through the track feels earned rather than performed. O’Brien understands that hangovers aren’t just physical—they’re temporal, creating unwanted space for memory to resurface. His songwriting approach treats regret as both burden and companion, something that hurts but also provides strange comfort through its familiarity.

What emerges is indie rock that acknowledges its own contradictions without trying to resolve them. “So Low” suggests that sometimes the most honest response to feeling terrible is to write a song that sounds great. O’Brien has crafted something that works equally well as soundtrack to recovery or soundtrack to relapse—a versatility that speaks to his understanding of how complicated simple emotions can become.