Lucy Fitzgerald 
There’s a lovely restlessness woven through the four tracks of “Kakorrhaphiophobia” that immediately invites curiosity. After more than a decade of quiet, Deaf Locust emerges with this EP like an explorer returning from the wilderness, bringing back something shaped by time and experience. The name itself—fear of failure—casts a gentle shadow that doesn’t overwhelm, but gives the music a pulse. Let’s start with the opening track, “Even In The Dark” (yes, title quoted). It bursts into its own space with distorted guitars that feel eager but measured, anchored by a steady vocal line that glides rather than pounces. The piano touches are bright and unexpected, layering a sense of reflection over the energetic drive. The vocalist asks, “Here we stand, on the precipice, holding onto a golden past that never was,” which carries both wistfulness and resolve.
Next is “Running Away.” Here, jangling guitars and harmonic vocals give the work a nocturnal glow – the kind of sound you imagine under a streetlamp at two in the morning, when you’re wrestling with feelings you’ve been avoiding. It asks, “Why are you running away?” and the answer comes wrapped in yearning and atmospheric motion. “Tainted World” shifts gears again. Heavy guitar pulses, ghostly wordless voices, and cinematic synths bring in something darker yet melodic, like rock and synth‑rock merging in a comfortable way. The texture here is rich and inviting.
Then the EP’s finale—the title track “Kakorrhaphiophobia.” It opens with an ominous ambience, strange frequencies slowly swirling into haunting vocal processions, leading into a powerful, unsettling stretch before a more subdued outro. There’s a sense here of catharsis: acknowledging the fear, sitting with it, releasing it. The layering of sound shows maturity, restraint, and a willingness to explore contrast.
I found this EP surprisingly comforting, even in its darker moments. It gave me the feeling of someone reaching in and inviting me into their world rather than performing for me from the outside. Also: the production made me pay attention—not because it was flashy, but because it was thoughtful and textured in ways that reward multiple listens. What I enjoyed most is how Deaf Locust doesn’t pile on maximalism; there’s space in these tracks to breathe, reflect, and sense undercurrents. In an era of noisy overstimulation, this EP is a quiet win.
So if you’re looking to add something to your playlists that moves beyond surface‑hooks and into emotional wavelength without feeling heavy‑handed, “Kakorrhaphiophobia” is worth your time. Make sure you follow Deaf Locust, drop the EP into your rotation, and let those four tracks sink in. Whether during a late‑night drive, a rainy afternoon, or when you need something different, this one will reward you. And if you bookmark one or two tracks as favourites, don’t be surprised when you find yourself coming back for the complete run‑through.
Listening to songs so you don’t have to! Just kidding :D, you totally should. Music blogger by day, nurse by night
