A melancholic invitation into vulnerability.
The fifth album by indie-pop band Winter, Adult Romantix, constantly defies its listeners’ expectations. Starting with “Just Like A Flower (Intro),” one may press play thinking the entire album will be just as comfortably understated. With only eight lines of lyrics, this introduction flows so easily into “Just Like A Flower” that one might not realize the first song has already ended.
This undoubtedly works in Winter’s favor, as “Just Like A Flower” brings the full scope of the album into a much clearer view, with its confident instrumentation and questioning lyrics. Starting the album off with two songs, so sonically different yet lyrically similar, is a good indication of what the rest of the album has in store. “Just Like A Flower” is employed as the first thread in the overarching theme of wistfulness woven into the body of work.
Songs like “Misery” and “Without You” also exemplify this idea. The prior’s chorus repeatedly asks “Are you dreaming of her now?” and bounces between stating “I wanna be / Caught in your misery” and “I wanna be / Caught in your mystery,” demonstrating the reasoning behind their Adult Romantix album title. Winter battles with mature romance and balances the pain that comes with learning about someone’s entire history with the overwhelming bliss of falling in love anyway.
The latter song toys with a similar line of questioning, whispering, “Who are you when I’m not with you?” Paired with a softly-sung chorus, Winter tells the world that their city feels strange because “All of the streets spell your name.”
Multiple songs, including “Without You” and “Candy #9,” effortlessly switch between English and Portuguese, a songwriting technique showcased throughout the band’s entire discography. In the case of Adult Romantix, this simultaneously highlights frontwoman Samira Winter’s Brazilian background and brings listeners into the band’s world. Winter uses language as a tool to intimately connect with their listeners without ever having met them. Not only that, but like most other things hidden underneath Adult Romantix’s surface, the language barrier pushes listeners to further engage with the music, fighting against passive listening.
It doesn’t take much to tell that this isn’t the band’s first album. As their fifth release in ten years, Adult Romantix progresses with the suave confidence that can only be earned, not imitated. Winter moves from childlike yearning to fully bloomed adoration and ends with heartbroken acceptance, taking the listener on a skillfully crafted journey well worth the 45-minute playtime.
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