With Oli Ng and his latest release, “Steadfast,” I found myself suddenly transported away from my cluttered desk and into a passenger seat, watching telephone wires loop and dip against a setting sun. You know that specific physical sensation when you stop checking the speedometer because you trust the driver with your life? This track bottles that. It’s the sonic equivalent of finally unclenched teeth.
Musically, it’s remarkably devoid of ego. The acoustic guitar keeps a rhythm that is functional and sturdy, like good denim. It’s driven, yes, but not in a hurry, a crucial distinction in an era where everything else feels like it’s screaming at 1.5x speed. The bass and drums arrive with the reliability of gravity, grounding the whole affair.
Ng’s voice, a warm and conversational tenor, doesn’t try to sell you the lyrics; he just tells you the truth. It reminds me, oddly, of the satisfaction found in watching videos of rusty tools being restored, that gentle, repetitive scraping away of modern grime to reveal the clean, shining metal underneath. As the background keyboards wash in, subtle as dust motes dancing in a window beam, the track swells into a communal exhale. The harmonies in the chorus add this rich texture, taking the solitary worry of the narrator and wrapping it in cotton wool.
It navigates the Indie Folk lane, certainly, but it bypasses the melancholia often found there. Instead, it offers a sturdy, solar-plexus warmth. It dares to argue that surrendering control isn’t weakness, but a biological necessity.
It leaves you wondering, in the silence immediately following the final chord: when was the last time you actually felt safe enough to let go of the wheel?
