Hi Love Pigeons! The romance holiday, Valentine’s Day, is just one month away so we thought it was the perfect time to share this February 14th-themed record with you by Oreaganomics. The record is just as fascinating as the album artwork, featuring lots of different out-of-the-box instrumentation, groovy bass lines, and smooth vocals. The record has a blast-from-the-past sound to it, giving the listener something to relax to that feels nostalgic and organic. It’s easy listening because of how familiar it sounds. Lyrically, the songs all center around romance and love, and the low moments of being in a relationship. It’s a collection of raw, chaotic stories from all different people, relationships, and situations, about trying to survive love, power, and identity in a messed-up world where success doesn’t equal happiness, emotions become addictions, morality gets blurry, and you’re forced to face the ugliest parts of yourself just to keep going. Really, it’s just the human experience, and this album hits so hard because those truths are laid out so openly and honestly. Rock the Pigeon has pulled out our favorite songs to review!
The first song we want to highlight is “Work Not Love”, a melancholic and mellow track with a smooth groove that sits comfortably in the Neo Soul and Funk Revival world. If you have ever been a workaholic who can grind for hours at a desk or laptop but struggles to fully show up emotionally in a relationship, this song is going to hit hard. It speaks to that deep emotional conflict of wanting love and connection while being consumed by work, especially when working simply comes more naturally than romance. The song captures what it feels like to care deeply for someone but not be able to give them the same time and energy your job demands, and how partners may not always understand that imbalance. It reflects the loneliness and emptiness that can come from being valued for productivity instead of heart, and the quiet realization that for many people, balancing love, work, and survival is far more complicated than it looks.
“Addicted to Emotions” feels like that song you put on repeat at 1 a.m. when you are staring at your phone, rereading texts, trying to figure out if you are being dramatic or if the other person really just refuses to hear you. It is about loving or dealing with someone who is so deep in their feelings that they cannot take responsibility for them, someone who blames everyone else while staying stuck in the same emotional loop. If you have ever tried to calmly talk something out and been met with defensiveness, tears, or emotional chaos instead of accountability, this song hits hard. The phrase “addicted to emotions” feels painfully real, like when someone thrives on intensity, conflict, or sadness and does not know how to exist without it. On top of that, it is insanely catchy. The vocal melody sticks immediately, the riffs feel smooth and soulful, and the R&B-leaning groove makes it feel almost too pretty for how frustrating the story is. The falsetto is soft but powerful, full of warmth and resonance, and it adds this bittersweet contrast that makes the song feel both comforting and heartbreaking at the same time. Honestly, it might be my favorite song on the record because it captures that exact moment where you realize you cannot save someone who is addicted to their own emotional storms.
“Equal Wrongs” is one of those songs that makes you sit up like wait… did they just say that out loud? It feels like it is about that moment in a relationship where you realize fairness is never coming, so you start mirroring the same energy just to survive. If you have ever been the one always apologizing, always compromising, always trying to be bigger, this song feels painfully relatable. The idea of creating equal wrongs when equal rights are impossible feels messy and honest, like when you stop explaining your feelings nicely because no one is listening anyway. Musically, it is such a ride. The song opens with this eerie, analog-sounding organ in a minor key that feels real and raw, like it is breathing. Then the beat and bass slide in with smooth R&B and soul flavors that instantly hook you. The falsetto vocals come in so effortlessly and confidently, it feels intimate but controlled. The track keeps evolving, moving through different sections with these slick transitions, blending old school soul vibes with modern hip hop energy. By the end, it shifts into this spacious, modern section that seriously reminds me of Frank Ocean’s emotional vocal delivery mixed with Kendrick Lamar–style production choices. It feels cinematic, like the soundtrack to realizing you deserve better, even if getting there means making a few wrong choices of your own.
“Venus” is absolutely unhinged in the best way possible, like the kind of song that makes you laugh at first and then slowly realize how uncomfortable and real it actually is. The concept alone is wild. A therapist teaching you how to act like a sociopath just to survive and function in society? I genuinely do not think anyone has written a song like this before. It feels like a darkly funny and painfully honest take on masking, people pleasing, and learning how to be human by following instructions instead of instinct. Lines like “keep handshake firm, says my therapist. Keep laughter light” hit hard, but the one that really wrecked me is “help me at last, how to be unseen in a room full of glass?” because it captures that feeling of being constantly visible and judged while desperately wanting to disappear. If you have ever practiced facial expressions, rehearsed reactions, or copied how other people move through the world just to fit in, this song understands you. Musically, it is just as chaotic and brilliant as the idea. The track is upbeat, busy, and experimental with a slightly psychedelic edge. The shuffle drum beat never sits still, full of cymbal noise and a brushed snare that keeps everything jittery and alive. The bass line is insanely funky and constantly moving, packed with cool riffs that basically carry the song and make it impossible not to groove. The vocals float on top in this obscure, drifting melody, almost detached, which makes the whole thing feel even more surreal. “Venus” feels like dancing through an identity crisis while smiling politely and taking notes, and it is easily one of the boldest and most fascinating songs on the record.
“I Hate Me Too” is raw and intense in a way that feels almost too honest, like the song is ripping the mask off and refusing to look away. It tells the story of being in a physically abusive relationship and the complicated, painful reasons someone stays, the self blame, the confusion, the belief that you somehow deserve it or cannot do better. It is uncomfortable, but in a necessary way, especially if you have ever watched yourself make excuses for someone who was hurting you. Musically, the song is explosive. The drums are front and center, packed with energy and urgency, pushing the whole track forward. The vocal comes in with a powerful chest voice that adds a new tone to the record, heavier and more confrontational, like a confession shouted out loud. On top of that, there is this absolutely unhinged horn ripping through the song in a beatnik, jazz chaos kind of way, busy and sharp and impossible to ignore. Everything about this track feels restless and alive, revolving around drums, vocals, and that shredding horn, and it makes “I Hate Me Too” one of the most intense and unforgettable moments on the album.
The only flaw on this record is that it has 13 songs instead of 14. Listen to “Locked out on Valentine’s Day” by Oreaganomics on Spotify now:
Listen on more platforms: https://ditto.fm/locked-out-on-valentine-s-day
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Written by Ryan Cassata
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