hit me up

The same artist, an entirely different register. Where "Cry" inhabits stillness, this track runs on nervous energy and barely-contained want. The production has a lo-fi intimacy — the kind of slightly compressed, tape-warm sound that makes everything feel like it was recorded close to a body — with guitar work that's jangly and restless and percussion that pushes forward rather than settling. Apollo's vocal here is higher, lighter, more openly yearning, trading the baritone weight of his ballad work for something that has more crack in it, more exposure. The song lives in the specific anxiety of desire before it's been returned, the particular emotional state of wanting someone to make a move while also being completely unwilling to make one yourself. There's a looseness to the arrangement that feels deliberate — nothing is too polished, which keeps the emotional temperature honest. This is bedroom pop filtered through soul sensibility, and it belongs to a moment in Apollo's career where his eclecticism was still feeling its edges. You reach for this in the afternoon when a text sits in your drafts unanswered, when you're restless in a way that has a specific face attached to it.