Album Released: July 24, 2026
Labels RCA Records | Cult
Producer Rick Rubin

How will we feel when we meet ourselves alone in the future?

The vocals sound warped and artificial, almost like a robot trying to sing, and yet the emotions underneath feel unmistakably human. What struck me most was that quiet confusion of growing older while still feeling young inside. I could not relate more. You know that time has passed, yet somehow you still see yourself as the person you were yesterday, still carrying a piece of that kid you once were. It is dark, strange, and unexpectedly relatable.

This lyric, in particular, stopped me:

“You only live at once…
I did that yesterday, when I was a kid.”

I do not usually write about music. Reflection’s, films and television are where I normally feel at home. But every now and then, an album arrives that is not asking to be reviewed. It is asking to be listened to. Really listened to.

V’s Layover EP is one of those albums that quietly becomes part of your life. “Slow Dancing” is still my alarm sound, which probably says enough about how much I love it. Some music does not simply pass through us; it finds a place to stay.

Reality Awaits found me during one of those difficult seasons when the days feel heavier than they should. A time when reality does not feel as though it is waiting for anything at all. It simply weighs on you. Even getting out of bed in the morning can feel like an act of courage, as though you are quietly walking into another difficult day.

Somehow, Julian Casablancas’ voice found its way into that quiet uncertainty, giving words to feelings I had struggled to name.

I wonder if this is what makes music so powerful. Is he also searching for something on the other side of uncertainty? Is his reality still awaiting something, just as mine seems to be? Perhaps that is the strange comfort of art: we do not need to live the same life as the person creating it to recognize a piece of ourselves in what they leave behind.

The funny thing is that, over the years, I have collected a handful of people I affectionately think of as “my boys.” They come from completely different worlds. Sometimes they are the BTS members. Other times, they are the Real Madrid players. Julian Casablancas and the other members of The Strokes certainly belong on that list as well.

Then it struck me that Casablancas is only ten years younger than I am, and somehow that realization caught me completely off guard. It is curious how my mind has been wandering in that direction lately. Perhaps it has something to do with my son, Leo, who once asked me teasingly, “So, how many boys do you have?”

I laughed and answered, “Many.”

The truth is, they have never really been my boys. They are artists, athletes and storytellers whose work has accompanied different chapters of my life, often without them ever knowing it.

Maybe that is another quiet gift of art. Sometimes, strangers we have never met become part of our personal stories. They walk alongside us through difficult seasons, remind us of who we were, and help us understand who we are becoming.

And, honestly, as an artist myself, this one hit hard:

“If you are better than me, you don’t have to judge me.”

Image Courtesy of RCA Records