There is a specific, fleeting hue of orange that only seems to hit the underside of clouds in late October, and listening to Kazu Osumi and her new single “Times of Love” feels exactly like watching that color fade into gray. It is an acoustic embrace that somehow feels both incredibly heavy and lighter than air.
The track situates itself in an Alternative Pop-Rock landscape, but the borders are porous. It relies on a strummed acoustic guitar foundation—steady, like a pulse you only notice when the room goes silent—paired with a bass line that offers warmth rather than rhythm. But then there is that weeping slide guitar. Or perhaps it is a pedal steel? It whines with the same polite, piercing sorrow of a tea kettle left on the stove just a moment too long. It injects a country texture that pulls the song out of the studio and onto a dusty porch in my mind.
Osumi’s vocals are delightfully unvarnished. There is a raw edge to her delivery that makes the meditation on time feel urgent. We are obsessed with clocks, aren’t we? I once bought a watch that ran counter-clockwise; it was useless for catching trains but excellent for perspective. This track argues for a similar perspective shift: measuring life not by ticks of a second hand, but by the elasticity of affection.
The lyrics navigate the bittersweet geography of parting ways. When the clean electric guitar takes its melodic solo in the bridge, the mood shifts from grief to gratitude. It captures the realization that memory is a form of preservation.
Does the love change? Yes. But Osumi convinces you that the transformation is necessary. “Times of Love” sits with you, heavy and comforting, demanding to know what you will leave behind when the room eventually clears.
