Breakups are rarely as clean as we’d like them to be. We tell ourselves we’re fine, that we’re happier than ever, but in the quiet moments—when a song plays, when we see their name pop up, when the past creeps in uninvited—it’s harder to believe. Holden.’s debut EP, Happier Without Me, wrestles with this exact contradiction: the need to move on, the fear that someone else is doing it better, and the uneasy truth that closure isn’t always a neat, linear process.
But here’s the thing—this isn’t just a record about heartbreak. It’s also a testament to creative endurance, to carving out space for your own voice in the chaos of life on the road. Joe and Alex Holden spent years touring with other artists—Tom Misch, Bombay Bicycle Club, The Hoosiers—in a variety of roles, helping bring their visions to life while their own music sat on the back burner. The duo had to fight against their own schedules, snatching whatever time they could to write and record, often in places that had no business doubling as a studio. Hotel rooms. Tour bus lounges. An attic. A spare room in Toronto. A kitchen table. It’s the kind of relentless DIY ethic that either makes you or breaks you. For Holden., it did both—they nearly let these songs sit forever, victims of their own procrastination, until they booked a mixing date and let the “panic monster” take over. That sense of urgency—of needing to get something done before it disappears—seeps into every track on the EP.
It all starts with the title track, setting the stage with a breakup that’s “amicable” in theory, but not so much in practice. “We won’t talk for a whole month / But we’ll tell ourselves we’re not depressed,” Holden. sings, with the kind of self-aware cynicism that makes the line hit twice as hard. The real gut punch comes in the chorus: “I don’t wanna know / Where you’ve been, no / Or what you’ve been up to / ‘Cause I’m scared you got happy without me.” The song captures the anxiety of watching an ex move on—especially in the age of social media, where pretending not to care is almost as important as actually moving on.
From there, Happier Without Me peels back the layers of self-reflection and growing pains. “Humbled” zooms out from heartbreak to a broader existential reckoning. There’s a real weight to lines like “I was better as a younger man, oh / I thought I was invincible, no / Now I’m crippled by my bent wings.” Sonically, the track leans into warm, expansive indie pop, with a rolling drum groove that gives it the feel of something The National might cook up. It’s a song about aging—not in years, necessarily, but in wear and tear. The recklessness of youth gives way to the creeping realization that time doesn’t slow down, and mistakes don’t always get a do-over.
Then there’s “How To Be a Real Person,” which shifts from nostalgia to full-blown identity crisis. “I think I forgot just how to be a real person,” Holden. admits, their voice wavering between detachment and desperation. Musically, this one’s got a beautifully off-kilter energy—acoustic guitar, crisp but understated drumming, and an almost Talking Heads-esque sense of alienation. When they sing, “You can’t pour from an empty cup, I know,” it lands like a confession, a plea, and an uncomfortable truth all at once.
If the first part of the EP is all self-examination, “My Broken Down Car” is the perfect metaphor for inertia. Stuck in place, kicking at the pavement, hoping for something to shift—Holden. sings about being “cold medicine laced with doubt,” waiting for a sign that never comes. The song’s synthy pop intesity adds to its charm.
That vibe morphs into obsession on “It Must Be A Sign,” where fate becomes an excuse to keep holding on. “Did you get what you want? / Did you get what you need?” the lyrics ask, with the kind of masochistic curiosity that only comes from checking an ex’s social media at 2 a.m. The song’s structure is deceptively simple—buoyant, shimmering indie pop with sharp, stabbing lyrics that contrast the breezy instrumentation. It taps into that self-destructive mindset—the one where every accidental encounter feels like destiny instead of coincidence, where the past refuses to loosen its grip.
And then, just as the EP feels like it might collapse under its own weight, “Terrible Things” delivers a gut-punch of brutal honesty. “Oh, we’ve all done terrible things,” Holden. confesses, letting the past catch up to them in real time. The song wrestles with guilt, self-forgiveness, and the messy reality that people aren’t strictly good or bad—just human. The admission “I should forgive myself / Not so easy to believe” lingers, unresolved, like an open wound.
“Puddles” follows, acting as both a moment of recklessness and surrender. “Oh my god, someone throw me in the deep end,” Holden. pleads, half-daring the world to push them over the edge. It’s a song about craving change, about needing something—anything—to break the cycle of indecision. The production here is striking: layers of reverb-washed synth sounds, an almost aquatic-sounding mix that makes you feel like you’re floating just below the surface. The metaphor of mistaking an ocean for a puddle is perfect: thinking you’re in control, only to realize too late that you’re drowning.
Finally, the EP closes with “Depths Alone,” a track that doesn’t offer resolution so much as it fully embraces the weight of isolation. “No emotion comes so close / To the depths of being alone,” Holden. sings, their voice shrinking into the shadows. The walls feel closer, the air heavier. But the song isn’t just about sadness—it’s about making peace with it, sitting in the quiet, and letting the weight of everything settle. It’s surprisingly up-tempo for the mood the lyrics set.
And maybe that’s what Happier Without Me does best. It doesn’t promise a happy ending, nor does it wallow in self-pity. Instead, it lingers in the in-between: the moments of doubt, the lingering what-ifs, the realization that even when we know better, we still wish things had gone differently. Holden. captures the paradox of heartbreak with honesty, wit, and a deep understanding that moving on isn’t a straight path—it’s a winding road littered with broken-down cars, unanswered questions, and the messy, beautiful chaos of making music in the moments between everything else.
Holden. delivers a heartbreakingly honest, beautifully crafted indie pop EP that balances raw vulnerability with sharp songwriting. Happier Without Me is both deeply personal and universally relatable—an intimate reflection on loss, self-doubt, and the uncomfortable process of moving on.
Jonah Holliday – IMR
