

I’m not flat—nope!
¡No soy normal—no señor!

I pop like a kernel,
Reviento como una palomita,

Turn like a gear,
Giro como engranaje,

Start-stop—tic!—I disappear (tic!)
Inicio-paro—¡tic!—desaparezco (¡tic!)

Shiver in a spiral,
Temblor en espiral,

Blurt in a loop,
Suelto en bucle,

Stuck in a mood like oops (oops!)
Atrapado en un humor de “ups” (¡ups!)

Hands shake (hands shake)
Las manos tiemblan (las manos tiemblan)

Thoughts fake (thoughts fake)
Pensamientos falsos (pensamientos falsos)

Voice breaks (voice breaks)
La voz se quiebra (la voz se quiebra)

But I make—
Pero yo hago—

Boom.
¡Boom!

I’m weird (weird!)
Soy raro (¡raro!)

I’m wild (wild!)
Soy salvaje (¡salvaje!)

Tickin’ like a bomb in a candy aisle
Ticando como bomba en pasillo de dulces

Glitch-glitch (glitch!)
Glitch-glitch (¡glitch!)

Smile (smile!)
Sonrisa (¡sonrisa!)

Crackin’ my knuckles in disco style
Crujiendo nudillos con estilo disco

I’m weird (weird!)
Soy raro (¡raro!)

No fix (no fix!)
Sin arreglo (¡sin arreglo!)

Loopin’ like a DJ’s got new tricks
En bucle como DJ con nuevos trucos

I don’t fit, I remix—
No encajo, yo remezclo—

Boom.
¡Boom!

Left foot, right—
Pie izquierdo, derecho—

Stop. Repeat.
Alto. Repite.

Can’t sit still in the grocery seat
No puedo quedarme quieto en el carrito

Say it once (say it once)
Dilo una vez (dilo una vez)

Say it twice (say it twice)
Dilo dos veces (dilo dos veces)

Say it—say it—say it—ice!
¡Dilo—dilo—dilo—hielo!

Eyes twitch (eyes twitch)
Ojos tiemblan (ojos tiemblan)

Brain switch (brain switch)
Cambio cerebral (cambio cerebral)

Snare hits (snare hits)
Golpes de redoblante (golpes de redoblante)

And I glitch—
Y me glitcheo—

Boom.
¡Boom!

I’m weird (weird!)
Soy raro (¡raro!)

I’m wild (wild!)
Soy salvaje (¡salvaje!)

Tickin’ like a bomb in a candy aisle
Ticando como bomba en pasillo de dulces

Glitch-glitch (glitch!)
Glitch-glitch (¡glitch!)

Smile (smile!)
Sonrisa (¡sonrisa!)

Crackin’ my knuckles in disco style
Crujiendo nudillos con estilo disco

I’m weird (weird!)
Soy raro (¡raro!)

No fix (no fix!)
Sin arreglo (¡sin arreglo!)

Loopin’ like a DJ’s got new tricks
En bucle como DJ con nuevos trucos

I don’t fit, I remix—
No encajo, yo remezclo—

Boom.
¡Boom!

Twitch in the night
Espasmo en la noche

Flash of the light
Destello de luz

Echo the echo the echo the fight
Eco del eco del eco de la pelea

Whispers behind
Susurros detrás

Can’t read my mind
No puedes leer mi mente

But I’m not broken, I’m just—
Pero no estoy roto, sólo estoy—

Aligned.
Alineado.

We’re weird (weird!)
Somos raros (¡raros!)

We’re wild (wild!)
Somos salvajes (¡salvajes!)

Tickin’ like bombs in a candy aisle
Ticando como bombas en pasillo de dulces

Glitch-glitch (glitch!)
Glitch-glitch (¡glitch!)

Smile (smile!)
Sonríe (¡sonríe!)

Dance with the tics in a freestyle pile
Baila con los tics en un montón estilo libre

We’re weird (weird!)
Somos raros (¡raros!)

No fix (no fix!)
Sin arreglo (¡sin arreglo!)

Savin’ the world with our remix
Salvando el mundo con nuestro remix

Click. Clack. Snap.
Click. Clack. Snap.

Boom.
¡Boom!

Weird

Ever cried into your cereal while pretending to be fine? Good. You're in the right place.

This is Indie Rock with jangle in its bones, Post-Punk with a library card, and melancholy dressed in skinny jeans.
Expect:
– sparkling guitars that sound like heartbreak in a sunbeam
– melodic basslines that know your secrets
– dry, punchy drums that haven’t called their mum in months
– and a baritone voice that’s part poet, part ghost of the guy you once loved in an Oxfam coat.

Born from the dusty corners of 80s UK outsider culture and raised on existential dread and corner shop romance, these songs hum with bittersweet longing and supermarket aisle revelations.

For fans of:
🖤 texting “I’m fine” while listening to music
🖤 dancing alone in the kitchen with unwashed hair
🖤 finding beauty in things that definitely weren’t meant to be beautiful

✨Press play if you’ve ever:
– Thought too much at a bus stop
– Mistaken nostalgia for personality
– Found peace in not giving a damn (but still kinda do)

Lyrics:

Kettle sighs like it knows what I lost
Steam curls up like a ghost in the frost
Sunlight hits where her laughter used to land
Now there’s only dust, and this cloth in my hand

The floorboards moan like they miss her too
Her echo walks in the shape of my shoes
I wipe down the counter, I rinse out the cup
The silence just swells, and never shuts up

Hoovering and smothering
On a sunny but grey Saturday morning
She’s nowhere, she’s everywhere
In the scent of her hair, in the cold kitchen air
I’m cleaning like prayer, like it matters she’s gone
Still asking the silence what went wrong

The mirror still leans where she once smiled
Crooked and bright, like a soft kind of wild
I won’t fix it, I don’t dare—
It’s the last thing she touched, it still feels like her stare

I scrub the tile, and remember her joke
The one with the nun and the disappearing smoke
She'd read me some line from a poet unknown
Then leave like a breeze and not pick up her phone

Hoovering and smothering
On a sunny but grey Saturday morning
She’s a verse in a room, she’s the twist in the light
She’s the laugh that still lingers when I turn off the night
I’m wiping down silence, I’m folding regret
I’m singing to ghosts I can’t forget

If she saw me like this—
Worn sleeves, slow breath
Would she laugh or just whisper:
"You’re still not over it yet?"

And I hum to myself,
as the vacuum moans—
it sounds like a hymn
to the place we called home.

Hoovering and smothering
On a day too bright to cry,
Too empty to move on,
Too quiet to lie.

Hoovering and Smothering (On a Sunny but Grey Saturday Morning)

“You Won’t Win” is a haunting and emotionally raw indie-rock ballad that dives deep into a personal spiritual war. With a commanding baritone voice and a cinematic dark pop arrangement, SFin delivers a powerful story of internal struggle, betrayal, and transcendence.

Echoing voices of darkness whisper: “You won’t win this fight…” — but through each lyric, the listener is invited to face their own shadows and rise above.

Perfect for fans of emotional storytelling, spiritual intensity, and dramatic melodic journeys.

''You Won't Win''

What happens when a coal miner from Saint-Étienne falls hopelessly in love with a femme fatale from Saint-Germain? 🥖🍷 Probably this track. A shimmering French House × Nu Disco confession, soaked in velvet vocoder whispers, groovy basslines, and filtered guitar licks — the sonic equivalent of drinking Chablis in a thrift-store tux while someone breaks your heart in six different dialects.

It’s smooth, playful, and painfully elegant. One moment, he’s choking on her cigarette smoke; the next, he’s googling “how to flirt in French for free.” She quotes Simone de Beauvoir while fixing her bangs, he wears his hoodie like a provincial badge of shame — and somehow, it turns into a dancefloor anthem.

Perfect for:
🥂 Crying at a rooftop bar in Paris
🕺 Practicing slow spins on kitchen tiles at 2 a.m.
💔 Pretending you’re over them (you’re not)
🎧 Shazam-ing your own heartbreak

Turn it up, close your eyes, and whisper “Oui, Mademoiselle Mystique” like you actually understand existentialism.

Lyrics:

T’es arrivée tard, sans la moindre excuse
Une écharpe, des bottes, et tes mythes confus
Ta cigarette dansait comme une baguette d’air
J’ai toussé dans ta fumée, mais t’en avais rien à faire

Tu citais des bouts de Simone de Beauvoir
En retouchant ta frange dans l’miroir d’ta voiture, le soir
J’ai demandé si tu m’aimais, t’as dit “peut-être”
Ça veut dire jamais… mais avec de plus beaux cheveux, peut-être

Je portais mon cœur comme un blason sacré
Tu portais tes doutes comme un gilet d’passé
Chaque haussement d’épaules, désespoir haute couture
Mon Dieu… j’suis tombé amoureux d’ton regard sans murmure

Oui Mademoiselle Mystique
Élégance et corps magnifique
Une énigme vivante, trempée d’vin
Tu riais et disais : “ne m’appelle pas tienne”
Oui Mademoiselle Mystique
Détachement cool, ironie chic
J’t’ai offert des fleurs, t’as offert ta critique
Oh… toi, tragique, tonique, freak gallique 

T’as dit qu’tu manges des croissants sans culpabilité
Et qu’le regret, pour toi, c’est d’la haute qualité
J’ai voulu matcher ta grâce existentielle
Mais mon hoodie criait : “provincial, face artificielle”

Tu lisais Camus, tu buvais ton Chablis
Pendant qu’j’googlais “comment draguer en français gratuit”
T’as embrassé mon cou d’un souffle si léger
Qui résonne encore… plus fort qu’nos cris d’fin d’été

T’as dit : “l’amour, c’est la guerre… mais qu’ça soit chic”
Puis t’as disparu, comme une boutique unique
Il m’reste ton parfum, fantôme insaisissable
Et mon compte à découvert… Bordeaux inoubliable

Oui Mademoiselle Mystique
Élégance et corps magnifique
Reine du froid, lèvres rouges ardentes
Tu m’as laissé texter pendant qu’tu lisais tranquille
Oui Mademoiselle Mystique
Une critique de Vogue qui s’balade en boutique
J’ai perdu ma fierté dans ton esthétique
Oh… toi, magnifique, freak parisien unique 

“J’ai jamais dit que j’resterais…” t’as murmuré…
Puis t’as commandé des huîtres… et grincé des dents quand j’ai mal dit œufs.

Oui Mademoiselle Mystique
T’as rendu l’indifférence magnifique
J’ai porté ton silence comme une médaille
Pendant qu’tu valsais lentement avec ton bagage
Oui Mademoiselle Mystique
Amertume douce, trés magnifique
J’ai écrit c’te chanson, tu dirais qu’c’est tragique
Mais chérie…
J’suis toujours coincé dans ton mystique

Mademoiselle Mystique (French House in French language)

Late nights. Fast cars. Luxury love affairs and regrets that ride shotgun.
“Chrome Hearts & Cigarettes” blends soul, trap, jazz, and blues into a cinematic experience delivered in a sultry baritone voice that bleeds truth.

This is the sound of midnight confessions in designer threads.

Stream it. Feel it. Share the story.
If you've ever loved someone who only existed after dark… this one’s for you.

Produced for dreamers, sinners, and those who know pain wears Prada.

Chrome Hearts & Cigarettes

They Forget

Forest of Your Mind is a stripped-back acoustic track — flamenco-style fingerpicking, whispered baritone vocals, and nothing to hide behind. It's about escape, emotional distance, and dancing through someone else’s dreamscapes. Just breath, strings, and slow-burning honesty.


forest of her mind

Flamenco-influenced Acoustic Indie Folk Guitarist and Singer-Songwriter.

Imagine an artist who merges the intensity of flamenco-styled acoustic fingerpicking with inward-facing social commentary. That’s exactly what angrypeoplelikeyou delivers. With a style as unique as their name, this artist brings the voice of the outcasts slightly into the light with strangely sultry vibes created by raw acoustic fingerstyle guitar, introspective lyrics, a baritone voice sung (and almost spoken) just above a whisper, and a stripped down production style. No fluff here.

Six Mariano aka ANGRYPEOPLELIKEYOU produces distinctive acoustic folk (with traces of rock and a whole lot of indie attitude), blending dark undertones with a touch of playfulness, taking listeners on a thought-provoking journey, daring them to question everything.  It’s a rare blend of styles that makes you think while tapping your foot. This music challenges the status quo while keeping you entertained.

Be kind. Unwind. Big Smile!
:@ angrypeoplelikeyou ;(

www. angrypeoplelikeyou.com
Youtube: @AngryPeopleLikeYou
Soundcloud: https://on.soundcloud.com/aVJDs
Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/2PxXEWBQXiZ4nN8ktFgueP

Hi there — welcome to my corner of the web.

I’m here for one simple reason: to share my music with you.
Take a listen, explore, and I hope something here resonates with you. Enjoy the vibe!

New tracks tagged #baritonevibes