The New Citizen Kane
San Diego - Ratbag Joy

​There’s something quietly compelling about the way these new singles land. San Diego and Ratbag Joy arrive back-to-back, but they don’t fight for attention, they feel like two sides of something lived, something still echoing.

San Diego opens like a slow breath. It doesn’t rush to impress. The vocals are bare, worn at the edges, almost conversational in places. There’s warmth there, but it’s tangled up with regret. You get the sense this isn’t a performance, it’s a confession. The line about “chocolate eyes” hits harder than expected, not because it’s clever, but because it feels like a fond memory. ​

Then Ratbag Joy crashes in like a different kind of memory. Rougher around the edges, louder, cheekier. It’s playful without being polished, the kind of track that knows exactly what it’s doing but acts like it doesn’t. There’s grit in the delivery, a sort of shrugged-off honesty that gives it weight. Joy here isn’t about gloss, it’s about surviving, laughing, stumbling forward anyway.

Together, they mark a shift. Not a reinvention, but a step into something more exposed. If the album Psychedelika follows this thread, it won’t be afraid to feel messy, or real. It’s shaping up to be a record built on truth, not trends.