Solum’s 'Circles' spins toxic love into a gritty, unflinching confession

With his latest offering 'Circles', London-based artist Solum captures the claustrophobic rhythm of a relationship stuck on repeat, the kind where breakups and reconciliations blur into one exhausting loop.

Built from the quiet confines of his own room, the track feels intimate but far from delicate. Over jagged, post-punk-tinged production, Solum’s voice comes through warped and raw, as though frayed at the edges by too many late-night arguments and unkept promises. The distortion acts as an emotional amplifier, translating bitterness, fatigue, and reluctant hope into a sonic snarl.

There’s a restless energy to 'Circles' that recalls the restless grit of brakence, the melodic bite of beabadoobee, and the genre-skirting unpredictability of Artemas. But Solum’s strength lies in his refusal to sand down the rough edges. The lyrics land with blunt force, unfiltered and unadorned, making the song feel like an open diary entry sung into the void.

For all its tension, 'Circles' is strangely cathartic, a recognition of toxic patterns, set to a hook that lingers like the taste of a final argument. It’s Solum at his most unguarded, turning personal chaos into something both abrasive and magnetic. In a scene crowded with polished heartbreak anthems, Circles stands out for wearing its mess like a badge of honour.