I was scrolling Spotify late last night, headphones in, trying not to overthink life, when J.S. Clockwise’s “The Tower and the Wall” stopped me cold. Suddenly I’m spiraling. How does someone work a 9-to-5 investigating things and write songs that hit you straight in the chest? I genuinely can’t figure it out.
The first lines land hard: “Forgive this brief intrusion / Let me slip inside that noose…” and I’m sitting there thinking, yeah, I know that feeling. The anger, the frustration, the strange way the world makes you feel tiny. Then he’s talking towers and walls, media confusion, and I swear I felt the political chaos of 2016 like a ghost sitting on my shoulder. I’m not even American, but somehow it’s universal. You just get the frustration, the hypocrisy, the way people scream but also whisper lies at the same time.
And the music. It’s quiet but never soft. The guitar plucks are like nervous fingers tapping a desk. The percussion moves like a heartbeat you can’t ignore. His voice, low and smoky, somehow tender, feels like he’s reading your thoughts back to you in the dark. I found myself leaning closer to my headphones, not wanting to miss a single word.
What I love is that the song never yells at you to pick a side. It’s messy, just like life. Clockwise points at towers and walls and says, “look, this is wild, but maybe we can survive it if we’re honest with ourselves.” And by the end, when he’s singing about love, truth, and fragile flowers growing straight and tall, I cried. A little. I’m human.
I can’t tell you how many times I replayed it in one night. Every line feels like it was written for the chaos inside your head, the parts you don’t tell anyone. Clockwise made a song that’s smart, sad, funny, angry, and hopeful all at once. I feel seen, confused, and oddly motivated to speak truth to some walls in my own life.
By the time the song fades, you’re left sitting in silence, headphones still on, heart racing a little, thinking about towers, walls, and every messy corner of your own life you’ve been hiding from. So here’s what you should do: don’t skim this, don’t nod along with the review. Put on your headphones, find a quiet corner, and let the song take over. Replay the lines, let the metaphors hit you, think about those towers and walls in your own world.
Omaye’s story is marked by loss and grit. In 2013, when he was five, he…
Music can feel like a spell, the kind that hits before you have words for…
LA-based multi-instrumentalist and self-proclaimed “Genre Assassin” Nate Franchesco has built a reputation on range, but…
Vincent Projects leans hard into nostalgia on his newest release, “Nebula,” and he makes it…
Ranzel X Kendrick, better known as Alias Wayne, has never sounded interested in staying inside…
El Drifte lives in the messy middle of American roots music. Is it honky-tonk? Western…