Here comes dwn bad with a new EP titled Good Luck Have Fun, and before I even get into the tracklist, let me just say — this thing breathes. It lives. It sweats a little. It bleeds just enough to let you know you’re not dealing with something that’s been pulled off the AI conveyor belt or run through ten layers of studio polish until it sparkles like a pop record with no soul. This is human. Messy. And all the better for it.

The title Good Luck Have Fun almost reads like a sarcastic message scribbled on the back of a crumpled napkin before walking into a breakdown. Or maybe it’s a mantra you mutter to yourself before you dive headfirst into some dumb life decision. Either way, it sets the tone. This project knows the stakes are low and high at the same time — that strange indie paradox where everything is on the line, but the only way to deal with it is a shrug and a power chord.

There’s something sacred about imperfection when it’s done with intention. Good Luck Have Fun, the new EP from dwn bad, is the sound of a musician leaning into that sacred mess. It’s a release that actively resists the polished vacuum-sealed sonics of the playlist era. And instead of chasing virality, dwn bad stakes his flag in something older, rawer, more handmade — the crooked smile of alt rock, the weary shrug of DIY ethics, the beauty of a take that’s good because it cracks at the edges.

The whole EP plays like a sketchbook that someone threw into a fire halfway through completion — charred around the corners, smudged with fingerprints, and somehow more alive because of it. These aren’t perfect songs. They’re human ones.

Let’s talk tracks.

“Try and Try Again” opens the EP with thick alt-rock energy. The drums are big and bold, the guitar rides that fuzzy midrange sweet spot, and the vocals — soaked in effects — drift in like a ghost through the back door. There’s this retro haze clinging to everything here, but not in a cosplay way. It’s nostalgia used sparingly, like seasoning, and it works because the song still sounds rooted in the present. You’re not being asked to time travel. You’re just being asked to remember what it felt like when songs had rough edges and no safety net.

Then comes “Run Around,” which is where things really stretch out. The tempo slows. The mood thickens. Suddenly, there’s space to breathe. The guitars don’t push — they sway. Silva’s vocal delivery is half lullaby, half late-night monologue. dwn bad drags the syllables out until they start to drip, and that dripping becomes the whole point. This one leans hard into relaxation without losing its grip on tension.

“Too Late” shifts the tone again. This is the EP’s most processed track — slightly warped, a bit synthetic, but still carrying that indie rock heart. There’s a radio-ready sheen to the chorus that feels borderline commercial, but the grit in the verses pulls it back just in time. This is the “one foot in the industry, one foot on the fire escape” song. You could almost imagine this being blasted through a mall’s overhead system — if that mall happened to be collapsing in slow motion.

“Liar Liar (Talk to Me)” brings in the distortion with zero apology. Guitars go heavy. The drums slam with conviction. This is a track that walks right into the middle of an emotional blowout and sets up camp. Everything here sounds louder — not because of the mix, but because of the stakes. dwn bad starts throwing punches with his voice, and they land because you believe he’s swinging out of desperation. This is the boiling point. You can practically feel the veins in the song’s neck.

And then, as a storm moving out to sea, “Nobody Knows” dials it back without deflating the pressure. The energy here is deeper. Lower. Almost subterranean. Derek Silva’s vocals move from performance to confession. There’s sadness in the reverb, but also release. The chorus stretches open, a wound that refuses to close. You get the sense that everything left unsaid on the rest of the EP spills out here — quietly, painfully, and beautifully.

Finally, “Love on Repeat” floats in like a sunrise. Bird sounds. Air. Actual air in the mix. The guitars feel lighter. The arrangement feels unburdened. After all the sweat and distortion, this closer doesn’t try to wrap things up with a bow — it just exhales. And that’s the genius of it. A kind of truce with chaos, and in that moment, you start to understand what dwn bad has been aiming for all along.

Across six tracks, the EP manages to shift gears without losing its center. Some songs swing harder, with riffs that flirt with punk energy. Others lay back a bit, giving more room for breathy confessionals and those classic midnight headphone listens. But nothing feels disjointed. The production ties it all together with just the right amount of grime — enough to keep the lo-fi vibe intact, but never to the point where it’s drowning out the songwriting.

And that’s the thing: this is a songwriter’s record. Behind the fuzz, behind the DIY aesthetic, behind the shrug and the scuffed boots, there are hooks. There are structures. There’s craft. You can tell dwn bad has lived with these tracks. Probably played them live in half-empty rooms, probably changed the second verses six times until they hit the right kind of sad.

If you’re looking for another faceless indie act that sounds like it came out of a playlist generator, Good Luck Have Fun by is going to be frustrating. But if you’re craving that beautifully flawed, deeply human indie rock that sounds like someone trying to make sense of their twenties in real-time — this one’s worth your time. And with the full EP dropping June 20, you won’t have to wait long to dive in. It’s coming in hot, and it’s going to be tasty.

Raw. Earnest. A little rough around the edges, but that’s the whole point.

*This review was made possible by SubmitHub