Erik Flaa Returns After 17 Years With The Fence, a Bold Opening to a New Chapter in His Career

This song strikes a nerve with something strangely familiar yet hauntingly new. At first, you catch a cascade of sounds—like someone mixed dreamlike reveries with old wanderings through city alleyways, added dramatic lyrics, and poured in a few drops of despair. Flaa’s vocals… they hit hard. Doubt, pain, insomnia—you feel it all in your very bones.

The Fence doesn’t rush anywhere. Its 5:39 runtime is just right for a song that’s been waiting 17 years for its moment. The guitars start off gently, leading you by the hand, then explode nervously, pulling you past some imaginary boundary of riffs and into another dimension, where the tonality resonates inside you, rattling against your ribs. The melody embraces you, nudging you toward the abyss of cosmic wonder.

And then, when the guitar solo shoots skyward, you lose track of where your thoughts end and the music begins. It slowly takes hold of you, squeezing out every drop of emotion, twisting something deep inside as a shiver runs through your body. The song itself challenges monotony, pushing us beyond the usual boundaries of “thank-you-please,” urging us to close our eyes for a moment and drift to the edges of consciousness.


Natali Abernathy Avatar