Coupé

“Break up, break up, break up” sounds like a mantra on repeat - somewhere between a gentle rebuke and a friendly kick in the butt. The vocals whisper about miles, empty calls, and accumulated troubles, while the chorus cuts so politely and insistently that one can only agree: it's better not to call, better not to remind. These phrases convey fatigue, liberation, and a slight irony about one's own drama; somewhere nearby there is light in the eyes, somewhere there are worn-out nights, and at the end there is a clean space for new steps.

The music is like evening cleaning: things are sorted through, unnecessary items are put aside, old grudges are packed into a box and carried out the door. There is warmth in the lyrics, even when the ropes are cut - as if someone gently takes out an old blanket, shakes it well, and says, “Don't come back.” Very diary-like - honest, a little mischievous, and almost homey and healing.