Soft Reboot by Bleakly

Soft Reboot isn't really just an album. It’s what happens when you spend too much time staring at your phone, and then you just sort of… restart. We poured all the static from cracked screens and the ache of ghosted DMs into these songs, trying to make sense of feeling invisible when everyone’s online. It starts with that low hum, you know, the one in your chest when you’re walking past lockers that feel like they're judging you, with guitars drenched in that late-night bedroom reverb and drums just barely beating time, like a timid heart. We wanted to map out that algorithmic pull, the way notifications try to set your rhythm.

Then, somewhere in the middle, we started finding glitches, little sacred moments in the blur. We wired up every thrift-store synth we could find, layered those snare rattles from our hidden practice room, and tried to prove that bodies still matter, that every ritual, even just tying your laces, leaves a fingerprint. There’s this one track, the hook-heavy single, that just *surges* with jangling guitars and a bright backbeat, like finally finding your voice in the crowded cafeteria. It's about learning to say, "teach my heart to keep its own time," and actually meaning it. It’s for those late buses and a million looped reels, the moment you decide your pulse writes code, not the other way around.

By the end, it’s not just us. The album builds into this defiant sing-along under flickering string lights, a raw shout from the practice stairwell that swells like stadium lights. We made those voices, our voices, tangle into something bigger, something that just refuses to be sorted, turning the tech that tries to cage us into a bridge instead. It ends with a quiet kind of peace, a soft exhale in warm reverb, a pact made in the cool echo of the stairwell. We’re not machines, obviously, but we found a way to make them hum along to our messy, human tempo. This whole thing, it’s our attempt to capture the blurry, honest sound of finding your own frequency when the world tries to tune you out.

Our tape-hiss lullabies for empty hallways and after-school breakdowns. Three sleep-deprived voices blurring into bedroom reverb and guitar fuzz. We're the soundtrack to your 3AM spiral texts and unwashed hoodies.