In a time when so much music feels like it has been processed within an inch of its life, I found myself drawn to the dusty simplicity of Ryan Kotler’s new song “Loneliness Is Killing.” It leans on little more than guitar, harmonica, and a vocal delivery that feels both lamenting and lived in. What struck me is how unadorned it is. There is no attempt to dazzle with production tricks, just the bare essentials carrying the weight of the song.
Lyrically, it digs into familiar but resonant ground. It explores the messiness of romance, the fragile balance of relationships, the mornings when you wake up feeling wrecked, and the broader struggle of the human condition. These ideas are not framed as abstractions but as snapshots pulled from daily experience. I felt the words less like statements and more like fragments of someone thinking aloud, half-confession and half-poem.
What I admire is that the song never tries to be more than what it is. There are no elaborate flourishes or grandiose turns. It exists within the folk tradition, where honesty outweighs spectacle and storytelling becomes the most important instrument. “Loneliness Is Killing” works by stitching together multiple small stories into something that feels whole, a piece of poetry that resonates because of its imperfections rather than in spite of them.
I kept coming back to the way the harmonica cut through the arrangement, not as ornamentation but as another voice in the conversation. It made the song feel more immediate, as though I was in the room while it was being played. That sense of presence is rare in music today, and it is what gives this track its staying power.