There are some songs that pose a question and others that feel like an answer. Shyfrin Alliance’s new single, “Colours of Time,” does something far stranger: it wrestles with a question so personal it barely knows how to form the words. It’s an exercise in trying to name the unnamable, that internal puppet-master who tugs at the strings of doubt and ambition from a place just behind your own eyes.
The soundscape is pure, distilled progressive rock, the kind that feels less like a composition and more like a carefully controlled weather system. It has that Peter Gabriel-esque gravity, a sense of grand architecture built from guitar textures that echo with Pink Floyd’s cosmic loneliness.
This omnipresent force the song describes isn’t a monster, but something more pervasive. It’s like the low, persistent hum of an old-world machine you only notice in the silence between thoughts—the very sound of your own consciousness ticking over. For a moment, it reminded me of the unsettling quiet in a de Chirico painting, where the shadows themselves seem to hold all the power.
But where a lesser track might build to a predictable catharsis of rage or despair, Shyfrin Alliance, steered by the philosophical hand of Eduard Shyfrin, pivots. The song doesn’t resolve the conflict by slaying the dragon; it does so by changing the atmospheric pressure of the soul. The narrator finds that love isn’t a sword but a shield, a source of light that doesn’t extinguish the darkness but simply makes it less terrifying to navigate.
It doesn’t defeat the ghost in the machine; it just learns how to live alongside it. What if strength isn’t about winning the internal war, but simply refusing to be afraid of the room?
