Listening to the new EP from Mahto & The Loose Balloons, “Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue,” is like opening a wooden box found in an attic. The contents aren’t keepsakes, but vows—four jagged promises made to oneself in the quiet aftermath of a great uncoupling.
This is music that breathes the air of the room it was born in. Mahto Addison-Browder’s voice has the texture of worn corduroy; his delivery is a simple statement of fact, not a plea for sympathy. The production is so lo-fi it feels less like a stylistic choice and more like a document of a specific moment, capturing the hum of the refrigerator and the mood of the weather outside the window.
When the harmonica appears, it isn’t a wistful sigh. It’s the sound of a screen door hinge that’s needed oil for years but everyone has grown fond of the squeak. It’s the honest imperfection that makes it feel true.
The journey here is one of frantic restlessness masquerading as freedom. There’s a peculiar liberation that comes from total emotional wreckage, and it sounds like driving with the windows down just to have something rushing past your ears.
In its defiance, there’s a deep torment, a soul caught between where it wants to be and where it has to go. Even the “borrowed” track, penned by Niko Graham, feels less like an homage and more like borrowing a friend’s glasses for a moment just to see the world from a slightly different prescription.
It’s all stitched together with a sense of finding bizarre humor in tragedy and a stubborn comfort in the mundane. The EP doesn’t offer answers. Instead, it sits with you in the paradox, content to observe the strange beauty of a complicated sadness. It’s an ode to the simple, ongoing effort of putting one foot in front of the other. So, what do you do with a map that only shows you where you’ve been?
