Ben Silby ‘can’t hang’ Is the Queer Indie Album You Didn’t Know You Needed

Ben Silby’s “can’t hang” doesn’t tiptoe in—it kicks the door open with a wink and a heartbreak, offering up ten years’ worth of emotional confetti in the form of tightly crafted, genre-blurring songs. This debut album feels less like a first record and more like a time capsule cracked open under a glitterball. It’s raw, it’s clever, and it’ll wreck you in the kindest way possible.

With sonic influences ranging from James Blake’s texture-rich production to Fiona Apple’s lyrical gut punches, “can’t hang” floats effortlessly between bright indie pop and shadowy alt corners. Opener “dirt i” is a mission statement of radical self-definition (“I’d rather be nothing than be wrong”), while “my bad” delivers danceable regret in under three minutes. The hooks are sticky, but the stories are sticky and bruised.

Silby’s ability to drop you into their memories like a trusted friend is uncanny. “interlude” whispers like a private journal entry, and “blue” aches with a nostalgia that isn’t just personal—it’s cinematic. Through every lyric, Silby’s queerness isn’t a subplot—it’s the lens, the voice, the entire screenplay. This is queer art that doesn’t ask to be understood—it dares you to keep up.

Production from Miles Francis adds a playful eeriness to the album’s emotional core. Theremin swells and crunchy beats make “dirt ii” and “wavy” feel like haunted beach anthems—sad songs for a neon-soaked apocalypse. Silby’s vocals stretch and shape-shift across tracks, never afraid to whisper, crack, or soar depending on the ache in the moment.

In the age of over-polished perfection, “can’t hang” is a beautiful mess of feelings, freakouts, and finding yourself in the wreckage. It’s for anyone who’s ever been “too much” and made peace with it. Ben Silby isn’t just one to watch—they’re the soundtrack to watching yourself become.

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