A debut EP is a serious matter. It’s more than just a collection of songs—it’s something like an audio statement: this is who we are, this is what we do, and this is why you should care. Fruitless by Rainbow City Park is exactly that kind of release. It doesn’t push for aggressive self-presentation, yet it doesn’t fade into the background either.

photo by Aidan Harper

Rainbow City Park is a five-piece band: Chris O’Keefe, Danielle Blankenship, Dwight Struthers, Nick Nassab, and Ryan Williams. They have an intriguing vision that fuses modern dream-pop aesthetics with the vibrant energy of pop rock and a subtle hint of melancholy. And I really appreciate that they didn’t chase the mainstream. Instead, they share their own perspective, add a slightly hazy charm, and make it clear they’re following their own path in music. There’s a sense that they have no need to conform.

Fruitless as a whole sounds fresh and effortlessly cozy. It has understated melodies and a gentle detachment. On top of that, all the tracks seem to follow a single story—almost like a short film with seamless transitions from one scene to the next. That’s impressive, especially since crafting a cohesive release isn’t always easy when you’re just starting out.

I’d also like to highlight the overall mood that runs through these songs—there’s no overwhelming drama. Instead, there’s a sense of dreaminess, blurred by nighttime lights, and a weightless trance that’s easy to get lost in for a while.

When it comes to the conceptual side of Fruitless, I see it as a small manifesto of exploration—young musicians trying out different forms, searching for where their true strengths lie and what they want to share with their audience. Many gravitate toward flashy, hyper-produced pop music, but this is something more understated and, at the same time, deeper. They’re searching, experimenting, and infusing their songs with their own aesthetic.

The moment the title track Fruitless begins, it’s clear that this song sets the tone for the entire record. There are no sharp transitions, no sudden mood swings—just a steady flow of melody, delicate interwoven guitar riffs, and a rhythm that keeps you engaged without overwhelming. The lyrics feel deeply personal, almost confessional. These are the kind of late-night thoughts that loop in your head—the ones about how much effort you put in, how much you give, and yet, sometimes, all you get in return is silence. And that lingering sense of unfinished conversation is captured here with striking precision.

photo by Aidan Harper

Chalk takes a step toward a more pronounced pop rock influence. Danielle Blankenship’s vocals shine here—floating above the instrumentation, sometimes lulling gently, sometimes cutting through with intensity in the chorus. The track carries traces of multiple genres: a shadow of alternative rock in one moment, a hint of dream pop in another. It all creates the feeling of an internal dialogue, an honest admission that something isn’t working, that a relationship is ending—but instead of a period, there’s a comma.

Provincial, ironically enough, feels like the band’s signature track. While the previous songs leaned into dreaminess, this one brings real energy. The band balances on the edge between pop-punk and something more melodic, crafting a soundtrack for those moments when you finally let go and just allow yourself to exist.

Foresight is the most delicate and weightless piece on the EP. It stands apart from the rest. This is a track that exists in its own space, inviting the listener to—if you will—take their thoughts for a walk. The instruments come in so seamlessly, one after another, that they feel like they’re dissolving into silence.

And finally, Water Under The Bridge—a beautiful, slightly melancholic closing to the EP. This track plays like an epilogue—the final scene in a film where the characters have said everything, but the audience lingers, left alone with their thoughts. Electronic textures and acoustic guitar are woven together here, creating that subtle kind of sadness that’s oddly comforting. The lyrics speak of goodbyes and uncertainty but don’t offer any definitive answers.

Perhaps the most striking thing about Fruitless is its sense of cohesion. Not every band can craft a debut EP that feels like a complete picture rather than just a collection of scattered ideas. Here, Rainbow City Park appears to have aimed at capturing a specific mood—something warm, slightly hazy, at times melancholic, but never overly dramatic. For a debut release—honestly, you couldn’t ask for a better EP.

This is one of those cases where a band finds its rhythm on the first try without getting lost in borrowed formulas for success. They’ve made it clear who they are from the start, and they’ve done it with such confidence that all that’s left is to wait and see how they surprise us next.

*This review was made possible by SubmitHub