DrewJam holds the line between memory and motion on new single 'Holding Fast'

There’s a certain kind of stillness that only arrives after midnight, the kind where everything feels a little too loud and a little too close. DrewJam taps directly into that fragile hush with 'Holding Fast', a slow-burning reverie that aches without ever begging for sympathy.

From the first few bars, it’s clear this isn’t about spectacle. A solitary piano carries the weight of the song’s opening moments, delicate enough to vanish if you exhale too hard. But like all good storms, the tension is in the air long before the thunder rolls in. Guitars hum in the background like static clinging to memory, and Ross Gardner’s percussion creeps forward with a tactful patience that feels more like breath than beat.

But it’s DrewJam’s voice that anchors the track. He doesn’t overstate. Instead, he lets the lyrics land with the weariness of someone who’s done their fair share of staring down silence. There’s no wallowing here, just the quiet kind of strength it takes to keep looking backward while still choosing to move forward.

The production, handled by Max Hopwood, is gorgeously understated. You can hear the space between the notes, and it’s that restraint that gives the final crescendo its gut-punch impact. When the song finally opens up, it truly exhales. Not a release, but a reckoning.

In a landscape where heartbreak is too often dressed up in overblown drama, 'Holding Fast' finds power in subtlety. It’s a song for anyone who’s ever watched someone vanish into memory and stayed up just a little too long hoping the feeling would follow. DrewJam is writing for the ones who’ve made peace with the dark yet still light a candle, just in case.