ESTRADA Music Project’s new single, “We Are Not God,” presents a fascinating study in contrasts, much like its creator, Dr. Alejandro Estrada. When not navigating the complex corridors of NHS Scotland urology, he’s here, a multi-instrumentalist weaving the intensity of that world into these evocative soundscapes. And “evocative” barely scratches the surface; this track certainly pinged some unexpected bells in this old mind.
The song unfurls with a distinct darkwave/synth-pop current. Think driving basslines that feel like a steady, slightly ominous pulse, overlaid with synth melodies that shimmer with a cool, almost crystalline clarity. It could soundtrack a solitary, rain-streaked journey through Glasgow at 3 AM, yet beneath this sleek, modern architecture, there’s a profound, raw ache. It’s the kind of ache that makes you suddenly notice the way your own breath catches before a difficult conversation, or the subtle way your cat avoids eye contact after knocking over a particularly treasured, if slightly chipped, teacup.
“We Are Not God” doesn’t tiptoe around its message. It’s a direct, almost uncomfortably earnest plea for us all to shed pretense and simply…be better. To practice genuine kindness, empathy, and thoughtful consideration, not just the performative kind that looks good on social media but evaporates like morning mist. The call to humility, the reminder of our human fallibility, resonates with a particular clang when you remember its genesis: a doctor urging compassion, especially pertinent within the often-pressured world of healthcare where such values are vital, yet sometimes strained to near transparency.
Listening, I kept picturing those stark, beautiful German Expressionist woodcuts – bold lines, deep shadows, emotion carved right into the medium. There’s a similar weight here. The synths provide the sharp, defined edges, that sense of almost clinical precision, but the vocal delivery and the lyrics themselves? They’re the raw, unvarnished human cry at the centre of the image, a plea against causing pain that feels less like a suggestion and more like a diagnosis of a societal ailment.
Does this fervent musical sermon, born from scalpels and synth chords, actually nudge us towards better conduct? Perhaps. It certainly forces a pause, a moment to check the reflection in the darkened screen before you hit send on that tartly-worded email. And what, truly, is the measure of a song that manages that?
