Shape of Water drops their single “Last Goodbye,” and it hits like walking into a brightly lit kitchen the morning after a furious argument – everything’s superficially tidy, the chrome gleaming, but the air itself feels bruised, humming with absence. This electronic art rock outfit from Manchester, featuring Rossano Capriotti handling vocals, bass, and keys with Luca De Falco on guitar/backing vocals and Tom Moks providing drums/backing vocals, certainly knows how to craft these peculiar emotional pressures.
They nod towards clubbing vibes, Freddie Mercury’s theatricality, and Lady Gaga’s electro-pop drama for this track’s synth-driven engine, and the influence is clear. The beat is insistent, designed for motion, possibly even catharsis on a darkened dance floor. Yet, beneath this polished surface throbs a narrative thick with post-relationship desolation: the specific, hollow echo of profound loneliness, the dizzying disorientation of feeling emotionally unmoored, adrift in the storm’s aftermath described in the lyrics. It’s like trying to trace the outline of a departed guest solely by the indentation left on a velvet cushion – you know something was there, but the shape is elusive, frustrating.
The words speak of memories lingering like unwelcome scents, sharp and persistent reminders of what’s fractured. Capriotti delivers this central ache with a raw directness that slices right through the shimmering production. And it’s this very juxtaposition that wrong-foots you. That relentless rhythm from Moks, Capriotti’s potentially glittering keys or grounding basslines, maybe brief, melancholic sparks from De Falco’s guitar – they construct a container that feels almost jarringly sleek for the vulnerability rattling inside. For a second, it evoked those intricately jewelled Fabergé eggs; stunningly crafted, almost overwhelmingly ornate, but ultimately enclosing… what? A carefully decorated void where something vital once resided.
This isn’t simply sadness layered over synths; it’s the peculiar, restless energy of grieving itself, propelled onto a stage it doesn’t quite belong on. The song doesn’t smooth things over or offer easy comfort. It leans into that awkward, jittery feeling when loss leaves you stranded but somehow demands action. It definitely sticks with you, this track, like the phantom limb ache of a finished conversation. Does dancing through such wreckage truly help clear the air, or merely stir the dust into more elaborate, glittering patterns?
Website, Facebook, Twitter(X), YouTube, Instagram, TikTok, Songkick
