Frio

Jellyfish is a haunting, orchestral descent into fragility, memory, and the slow unravelling of identity. With layers of guitars, ghostly strings, fractured piano and a myriad of synthesizer textures, the album captures Junkballer at their most vulnerable and cinematic. From the turbulent energy of “Brace Yourself” to the devastating stillness of “Hope You're Gonna Wait,” each track dissolves the boundaries between analogue warmth and digital disintegration. It’s a record that drifts like fog through emotional wreckage — political, personal, and planetary — wrapped in Junkballer’s complex arrangements and post-rock textures. Subtle, sorrowful, and immersive and also punctuated by moments of raw, youthful urgency

The Little Things

Terpaku Sudah

A Rigor, o Cara do Terno

Copos Y Copos

Aquele menino esmirradinho, bem magrinho - gostava de tanta coisa
Gostava de jogar bola - de criar histórias -E de fazer natação 

Mas sempre tem algo que faz seu corpo inteiro arrepiar
Pode ser futebol, pintar ou medicar
Mas pro menino a vida era cantar

Alguém sabe dizer de onde vem a vontade de querer ser
Um astronauta ou um padre que vai benzer uma criança que um dia também vai querer ser algo quando crescer

Aquele cara esmirradinho, bem magrinho - gostava das mesmas coisas
Gostava de jogar bola - de criar histórias - já não fazia natação 

Mas sempre tem alguém pra dizer com o que deve trabalhar.
“Tenha um emprego… e aí você pode cantar.”
Mas pro menino, o emprego… era cantar.

Dizem que é melhor ter jornada de trabalho
E um contracheque no fim do mês
Que sonhos de criança são muito bonitos
Mas só se der pra fazer depois das seis

Mas sempre esquecem de contar
Que sonho cresce mesmo se a gente não cuidar
Mas cresce com medo de se realizar

Alguem Sabe Dizer 123bpm

10 VIRGINIA Going Back To VA 20.0 LV 4.4.24

Transient

Yesterday

With No One

I Am

Run Away

Ever wondered what happens when indie rock panic meets post-punk denial and jangle-pop optimism?

Well… this track answers it:

👉 A person literally baking a cake during a fire alarm.

The whole world outside is going full “Doom & Gloom: Live Edition” —
sirens crying, neighbours screaming, smoke creeping under the door —
and our hero is standing there like:

“Yeah yeah, apocalypse, whatever — the crust needs two more minutes.”

This song is basically the spiritual successor of:

“This is fine.”

“I’ll panic later, I’m busy.”

“If the roof falls, at least the frosting slaps.”

It’s the anthem for anyone who has ever ignored a real problem
because something in the oven was at a critical emotional moment.

Expect:
🥁 jangle guitars that sound like your smoke detector having an existential crisis
🎸 indie-rock riffs that slap harder than the collapsing ceiling
🔥 post-punk energy that whispers: “buddy… you’re not okay, but the cake is”
🍰 and a level of chaotic calmness that should not legally be allowed

If the world ever burns again (give it 48 hours),
blast this track, grab a whisk,
and remember:

WORRY NEVER BAKED A THING.

Lyrics:

While the world was burning,
I was checking the oven light.
Everybody ran outside,
I just wanted the crust right.
Sirens screaming in the streets,
and I'm measuring flour like it’s peace.
Smoke is leaking under every door,
but hey — the batter needs a little more.

Maybe I should worry,
but worry never baked a thing.
Maybe I should hurry,
but hurry never made it sing.

So I’m baking a cake in a fire alarm,
with the kitchen shaking like it means me harm.
All the neighbours shout that I should escape,
but the timer’s ticking — sorry, no break.
If the world goes down, I’ll still stay calm,
mixing sugar in a natural charm.
Yeah, the roof might drop, but the taste’s divine —
let the flames go crazy, the cake’s still mine.

The smoke turned into dancing ghosts,
cheering for the butter I added most.
Someone knocked and yelled: “Get out!”
But the batter rose — so I stayed devout.
There’s chaos on the news tonight,
but I’m beating eggs like I’m ready to fight.
Ash is falling like confetti rain,
and I’m greasing the pan to stay sane.

Maybe it looks foolish,
but foolish keeps me whole.
If life’s a burning building,
I’ll frost it with control.

So I’m baking a cake in a fire alarm,
with the kitchen shaking like it means me harm.
All the neighbours shout that I should escape,
but the timer’s ticking — sorry, no break.
If the world goes down, I’ll still stay calm,
mixing sugar in a natural charm.
Yeah, the roof might fall, but the taste’s divine —
let the flames go crazy, the cake’s still mine.

Let the ashes fall, let the headlines scream —
I’ll stir the chaos into whipped-cream dreams.
If everything crumbles and nothing survives,
I’ll still bake sweetness into bitter lives.

So I’m baking a cake in a fire alarm,
with the world collapsing like it means me harm.
Everyone’s running but I stay in place —
there’s magic rising in this metal case.
If the night goes dark, I’ll still stay warm —
in a kitchen storm, in a sugar-storm.
Yeah, the city can crumble, the sirens can whine —
I’ll be here baking —
the cake is mine.

Baking a Cake in a Fire Alarm

Yesterday

Michael Yu