irihi unfolds like a flawed diary of youth. Filled with moments of running away, getting lost, waiting, separation, and hesitant attempts at forgiveness. Across its five tracks, the EP blends J-punk and J-rock emo sensibilities with a strong math-rock backbone, before closing on a somber acoustic ballad that leaves the story intentionally unresolved.
Running, Hiding, Looking Back
“Hanoi” opens the EP with emotionally charged J-punk/emo urgency, its driving guitar and drums moving like a train pulling away from the city. It captures the impulse to escape routine, notifications, and self-erasure in search of something real again. Freedom is present, but so is quiet grief for those who stayed behind in repetition.
“Covert” follows with a more restrained tone. Still rooted in emo rock, it feels internal and hushed, like a private space no one else can access. The track sits in that suspended moment before dawn, darkness lingering, yet already hinting at the possibility of renewal.
Waiting Rooms and Last Trains
“Waiting” leans further into J-rock sensibilities, unfolding as the closing chapter of two people lost separately before unexpectedly finding one another. Lyrically, it balances existential ambiguity with gentle optimism, suggesting that meaning might not be abstract at all, but painfully specific.
“Countdown” brings the emotional tension to its peak. Built around a soft, ticking guitar motif, the song circles familiar imagery, final trains, partings, and the fear of being forgotten. It’s melancholic but not heavy-handed, allowing the sense of urgency to emerge naturally rather than through force.
Closing the EP, “Everypiece” strips everything down to raw acoustic guitar and restrained pacing. It captures a deeply human conflict: the mind wants forgiveness, but the heart lags. There’s no neat resolution here, just ambiguity, hesitation, and emotional honesty.
Pieces That Fit But Need Just a Bit More
Taken as a whole, irihi forms a coherent emotional arc: escape, disorientation, brief clarity, separation, and an unfinished attempt at healing. Musically, the EP is consistent and disciplined. The guitar leads without excess, drums support rather than dominate, and bass and guitar lock in cleanly to create a stable foundation for the vocals. The production is clear and well-balanced, with not much room for change or harsh critique.
With its J-punk/J-rock emo core and introspective songwriting, irihi presents a focused, emotionally grounded EP. Scarred, uncertain, but quietly hopeful, it’s a release that feels sincere, and one well worth waiting for the next to come out of this collective.
Rating: 7.5/10
