I couldn’t believe my eyes
How fast you’d change your mind
You never said that any love could ever fade away
In Liverpool, where concrete streets still hum with echoes of Merseybeat and punk squall, So, Reverie rise with their own crooked hymn. Andy Power’s voice moves like a lit match across damp wood, striking sudden light against the ache of memory. Beside him, Cain Garcia hammers both rhythm and melody into form, his guitar and drums speaking with blunt, human conviction. Together, they are less a band than a dialogue: two friends soldering fragments of youth, longing, and discontent into sound.
Their latest offering, Close My Eyes, is built from the marrow of heartbreak. It lives in the ache of rooms haunted by shapes of the departed, the restless loop of nights where silence is filled with remembered voices. There is no soft reconciliation, only the restless push toward release. The track burns with the paradox of grief: the wound of absence and the strange desire to love even from a distance, to cradle what has already slipped into the tide.
Power’s guitar lines tangle like ivy around Garcia’s percussive heartbeat. One moment sharp as glass, the next dissolving into hazy shimmer, they mirror the jagged, restless nature of memory itself. Garcia grounds the piece with drumming that feels less like timekeeping and more like the inexorable ticking of thought. Their playing is intuitive, tethered by a long friendship that turns collaboration into instinct.
The spirit of the song is steeped in history. You can hear the spectral sway of The Cure, the chiming brilliance of RIDE, and the wistful lift of The Ocean Blue. So, Reverie inhabit a liminal space between post-punk’s angular honesty and dreampop’s gauzy drift. They nod to New Order’s machine-lit dance floors, Slowdive’s hazed communion, and Interpol’s urban chill, but lace it with the restless vitality of newer acts: Bleach Lab, NewDad, DIIV.
“Close My Eyes feels like our most defining song to date and to us it’s the song that in many ways started off So, Reverie as we know it. I wrote the guitar riff while catsitting for my cousin who was away on holiday in the summer of 2023. I was alone and isolated in a house for a week in the middle of the countryside and the riff came out as a musical expression reflective of how I felt. The lyrics and chords then came instantly — it was during a period of personal upheaval and the song reflects on the difficulties of sudden heartbreak. The song was a means for me to discuss my state of disbelief at how something can change so quickly, when things are too raw to be seen with a clear perspective and you’re simply left blinded by nostalgia for something that once was,” says Power.
“When the initial idea of the song was born, we hadn’t even started the band. The recording I had of the riff was what made Cain want to join the band and get back into the rehearsal room only a few weeks after the dissolution of our previous band. As soon as he added the dancey beat to the riff and I heard how everything combined, it felt like we had found our direction. Since then we’ve not looked back and we are so excited for people to hear the track as it feels like a huge step up in our progression as songwriters from our early singles,” Power adds.
Directed by Harry Harper, the video, featuring Putpipat Tamtantiwattana, turns the private space of a room into a theatre of disorientation. A lone figure is subtly undone, drifting from the quiet routine of solitude into a breach where reality splinters. The band appears suddenly, uninvited guests of the mind? A coping mechanism? Fingers stretch and warp, a body betrays its own form. An uncanny twin lingers in silence. Each image folds into the next with the logic of dreams, yet carries the menace of a waking hallucination. The sequence feels less like a narrative than a fever, its rhythm unmoored, its imagery unsettling in its precision.
“Working with Harry Harper on the video was an absolute pleasure,” Power explains. “He’s been a long-standing collaborator of the band and he was really able to visually capture the emotion behind the song. The visual aspect of So, Reverie is something we take extremely seriously, which is why we really wanted to make sure we had a video at the same level of quality as the song. I think Harry did a really good job at creating scenes that highlight the feelings of longing, loneliness, and melancholy you hear in the lyrics and the guitars, which is what makes the video so fitting,”
Watch the video for “Close My Eyes” below:
There is a sense that So, Reverie’s Power and Garcia are not chasing a career as much as chasing a sound they would willingly wait in line to hear. They move against the flattening tide of the UK’s current music landscape, where compromise is often the price of visibility. Their refusal of that bargain breathes life into the music, lending it the urgency of a manifesto written in reverb and rhythm.
Close My Eyes is a portrait of rupture and resolve. In it, So, Reverie transmute private ache into communal song. It feels as if they are calling across the rain-wet streets of Liverpool, summoning both ghosts and the living, asking us to remember, to feel, and to wait with them in that suspended space where longing and release meet.
After early singles like Sentimentality and Decaying drew attention through BBC Introducing, Power and Garcia secured support slots with HighSchool, Bleach Lab, GIFT, and Heartworms, and sold out their debut headline show at The Kazimier Stockroom in 2024. Working with producer Rob Whiteley, they’ve since honed their most defining material, beginning with Close My Eyes, the first single from their 2025 EP.
Find Close My Eyes on streaming here.
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