I Couldn't Stop Pressing Play.

Music is my life. Not in the cliché Instagram quote way (or whatever we’re supposed to be using now), but in the real, deep, how I get through life way.

For the last eight years, Amy Shark has been one of those artists.

Every album on repeat. Every song played to death. Dozens of people driven to insanity by my obsession.

Which is why I wasn’t expecting my first reaction to her new album, Soft Pop, to be nope.

I’d woken up earlier than usual on release day, logged into Spotify on the TV in my bedroom, ready for the excitement that always comes with an Amy Shark release.

I hit play.

Over the following 32 minutes, my excitement slowly faded.

I kept waiting for the moment when everything clicked. The moment one of the new songs grabbed me the way they always seemed to.

It never came.

The opening four singles I’d already had on repeat for months were still brilliant. But once the rest of the album started, I found myself waiting for something that never arrived.

By the time the final song finished, I was convinced Amy Shark had finally released an album I didn’t like.

I didn’t hit play again.

I switched over to YouTube until it was time to get out of bed, convinced the streak had finally come to an end.

A few hours later, I hit play again. It was, after all, Amy Shark release day. I’m pretty sure I’m contractually obligated to play every new album on repeat for at least a month.

The second listen was a bit better, but still very weird.

I still wasn’t convinced I liked it.

Yet, when the album finished, I didn’t put something else on.

I just kept telling Echo to play.

Over the next few days, I had other things to do, so the album wasn’t quite on constant repeat like a new release usually is.

Yes, I did still play it more times than could be considered sane. I still looked up lyric videos and learned every word within the weekend.

I was just doing what I do for every new Amy Shark release. Only this time, I wasn’t listening to enjoy it. I was listening because I couldn’t work out why it wasn’t clicking.

The lyrics were the part I struggled with most. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there had to be something I wasn’t hearing. I was learning the lyrics because I was sure I had missed something.

Somewhere along the way, after far more listens than I’d ever admit publicly, I realised I was enjoying some of the songs.

That wasn’t unusual. Plenty of songs have grown on me over the years.

What was unusual was how much patience I’d given this album before I’d reached that point.

I wish I could tell you there was one moment where everything clicked.

One lyric.

One chorus.

One drive in the car.

There wasn’t.

I genuinely don’t know what happened.

Maybe it was habit.

Maybe it was loyalty.

Maybe after eight years of Amy Shark, I’d learned to trust that if something didn’t land immediately, it was worth spending a little longer with it.

Or maybe that’s giving me far too much credit.

I could pretend there was some profound reason I kept listening.

The truth is, at least part of it was because making my support workers listen to Amy Shark on repeat has become something of a tradition.

But that still doesn’t explain why I kept pressing play when nobody else was around.

After a few days, I realised I genuinely wanted to listen to the album.

Somewhere along the way, it had stopped feeling like an obligation.

I still don’t know if Soft Pop will ever be my favourite Amy Shark album.

I still think some of the lyrics are weird.

I still don’t know why I keep pressing play.

I just know I do.

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