Artist Contacts
Reetoxa’s “Alcohol” hits like the moment you realise the sun is up, your phone is gone, and last night is a montage of bad decisions and ringing ears. It’s raw, sweaty punk-grunge that doesn’t apologise, and that honesty is what gives it instant gravity. The track opens hard, guitars scraping like asphalt, drums punching with the impatience of a hangover, bass rattling the floorboards like a bad heartbeat at 3 a.m. From the first thirty seconds, it’s obvious this song isn’t here to warm up—it is the warm-up, the ignition, the moment before the room combusts.
Lyrically, it leans into chaos with precision. The storytelling doesn’t hide behind filters or metaphors, it talks back to you. There’s a punch-drunk vulnerability to the premise—only finding courage after a few drinks, only finding consequences when the drinks wear off. It walks the line between self-roasting humour and that sharp internal sting of realisation. You can practically see the blinking streetlights of an outer suburb morning, taste the regret mixed with dry beer and blurred memories. What makes it hit harder is that it never sinks into self-pity. It laughs even when it winces.
Musically, the swing between nasty distortion and rhythmic clarity gives it motion. It’s heavy but moves like a crowded floor, volatile but unshakably catchy. The chorus lands with the same fearless abandon as shouting secrets over loud speakers in a sticky bar. Vocals don’t polish the edges—they sharpen them. There’s swagger, yes, but also an unmissable streak of candid humanity running through every line.
By the final seconds, “Alcohol” doesn’t feel like a song about reckless nights—it feels like proof you survived them, and might actually miss them a little.