This next song is dedicated to the dreamers — the ones reading this right now at their office desk, spacing out to some really deep house jams with minds wandering about their next music festival. The ones who press their face against the passenger window seat or on their shower wall, and stare off contemplatively like they’re in their own music video. To those who spend their time imagining more than they should — this one is for you.

To put Emmit Fenn’s music in a box would be unfair to him and inaccurate in general — because Fenn more or less creates soundscapes with his production. Sounds pretentious? Probably. But listen to “Overflow” and you’ll confirm that his tracks can slide just as easily into a Kaskade DJ set as it can in a trip-hop playlist — a “chill vibes” radio station or an instrumental/soundtrack playlist. Take your pick.

“Overflow” begins like a soft piano ballad, a child idly playing keys in an empty house. “Oooh, I’m fading away tonight,” Fenn begins to sing. His voice plunges inside the building melody, turning a twist into the melancholy.



But this ride will not end like you think it will, and before you know it, Fenn hits you with a thumping, driving beat that pierces through your ears like midnight rain. It becomes clear that “Overflow” will not stand for being just a ballad or a dirge. It’s an existential dance song; the theme to a life that — god, excuse my pun — overflows with vibrancy as much as it does with flickering philosophical thoughts on why the world is the way it is.

Fenn holds your hand through his song, guiding you gently along the gradual slopes and hills of his composition. He’ll slow it down in the right moments only to pick you up and lead you to the song’s satisfying end. Listen to this on your way out of the bar after last call. Or, like me, play it on repeat after a dismal work day and the sun’s rays are laying on its neighboring clouds in the perfect angle. I promise you won’t regret it.

Did you know Emmit Fenn played Coachella’s Do-Lab this year? BET. His latest EP, The Last Dance, is only three songs long but if you haven’t listened to it, I suggest you do. Dance, cry — do your thing, reader.