Dameer is back with a brand new EP full of chill indie bops that are so smooth and lovely they’re a very effective balm for what’s ended up being one of the most head-spinningly busy New Music Fridays of the year so far. Bung it on while you read through this handy track by track guide from the up-and-comer himself.
‘Sun’ is about growing up in a web of ulterior motives. It is about being stuck in an echo chamber, reverberating suppressed emotion from the 80s, modest dreams from the 90s and misplaced hope from the 2000s. The song is my way of telling my parents to learn to let go of their demons and let me be me: I wrote it when our relationship was extremely sour, to a point where I almost felt guilty for writing the song. But our relationship got far better after I’d put all of those emotions into perspective. Time heals a lot.
‘Believe’ is about romantic PTSD. Sometimes you go through such a rough, traumatic relationship, that you can’t commit to someone new for months, or even years. I went through such a relationship myself, and many months after we broke up I met someone new who I felt deeply compatible with, but the moment I tried to make a move, I got flashbacks of all the trauma. It made me feel like nobody was worth the risk of loving, of giving oneself up to. It made me wish I could love like it was the first time and forget the past.
‘Amar Jaan’ was inspired by a long-distance relationship. I had just left home for the first time as I moved to Malaysia with my family at a time of great political turmoil in Bangladesh. I felt like the world was falling apart and depended on this relationship so much to maintain my sanity. I found that when it was going well, this relationship would relieve me of a lot of these existential anxieties, however we also had our issues that were further exacerbated by the distance. The song talks about how beautifully escapist it all was, and about how I felt like time was moving ever so painfully slowly as I adapted to a new home.
‘Keep’ is about being deeply in love with someone you can’t have. Not because they’re with someone else, but because of distance. I only go back to visit home maybe once a year, and only occasionally would both of us be there at the same time since we both lived abroad. We were deeply in love but every moment was torturously fleeting. It’s also about the pain I felt as with more and more time spent apart, we became more emotionally distant too.
I wrote ‘Michelle’ immediately after a break-up. And I do really mean immediately – it was the first thing I did when I got home. Settling into KL was a lonesome task, and getting into this relationship was a big way of dealing with that loneliness. Once it was over, I felt like I was thrust back into the abyss, all alone in this vast city. She left me for no apparent reason, until it became apparent she was with someone else. I felt like the world was laughing at me, so I put the lyrics over a glittering indie rock beat. This song really opened up the world of songwriting for the sake of therapy for me. It gave me the closure that I never got from her, it allowed me to stuff all the pain inside a 3-minute pandora’s box to share with the world.
‘Air’ is about being completely aware of how toxic a relationship setting is and going with it anyway, because you like the power dynamic and it makes you feel validated to have someone depend on you. It is about being knowingly oblivious to trauma and its effects, even as they play out right in front of you.
‘Again’ is the cathartic, final exhale after a bad panic attack. Everyone gets deep existential dread when trying to figure out the world, like the impending threat of global warming or the disorienting relativity of knowledge. But everyone also has their “thing” that helps them get past that dread. For me, it’s music. It’s the only thing to me that feels like it’s inherently good, playing music makes me feel like it’ll all be okay. I’m just passing on that message in Again. I’m telling you, that it’ll all be okay.