Tristan Turdean just cooked up this conceptual short film-slash-rock EP hybrid called 5 SONGS TO GET OVER YOU, and the name doesn’t lie — it’s five tracks, five stages of grief, five punches to the emotional gut. Grief-core, heartbreak-rock, post-love alt cinema. Whatever. It’s all in there. The guy literally turns Kübler-Ross into a tracklist and dares you to sit with it.

This is a fully-formed breakup EP with a clear structure where lyrics and video piece locks into place, pulling you into the emotional blueprint without second-guessing. Artists love conceptualizing grief, it’s a soft target. Everybody’s been through something. But Turdean took that universal experience and decided, “what if we make this thing into an audiovisual short film?” Not a playlist. An actual cohesive story, told through five connected songs and five videos, each representing a distinct psychological state: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. And crucially — the last step delivers connection, warmth, and a sense of moving forward. It’s new beginnings, new people, new love, there’s actual narrative payoff. The thing ends with hope. This is the kind of EP that almost forces you to listen front-to-back — not because it’s technically dense or musically complex, but because the emotional sequencing is dialed in.

Turdean open strong with “Remind Me When You Return.” This is the Denial chapter, and it kicks the door in immediately. Unapologetically groovy. Raw. Gritty. The riffs are sweaty. The drums are wired. The whole thing thrashes and pulses like someone trying to punch reality in the face. That initial No. And the visual that accompanies it? A kinetic mess of longing and resistance. A perfect entry point.

Then we hit “E-Girl” — aka Anger. And yeah, we feel that shift. Lyrically, this is where the teeth come out. The lines snap. The tone sharpens. The drums tighten up into a more locked-in, almost militaristic rhythm, like a tantrum on a grid. But the track still manages to stay fun. It’s pissed, but it’s catchy. There’s a tension between wanting to lash out and still needing to perform the anger. And that’s exactly what makes it stick. You’re raging, but you’re still composing the post. The video amplifies that theatricality and starts stitching the narrative together — now we’ve got a character arc.

Track three — “Tell Me That You Love Me Too.” Oh. And this is where things get a little shinier. There’s gloss on this one. The guitars are slick. Turdean’s vocals ring out with that aching clarity. The chorus comes in like a wave of false hope. It’s commercial, sure — and it works — but it’s also emotionally manipulative, in the best way. This is that delusional 3 a.m. energy where you almost convince yourself that a well-worded text can undo months of distance. The sound mirrors that fragile optimism, just the right amount of ache under the polish.

Now. “Miss U.” This is the pit. Depression. This is where the EP stops negotiating and just sinks. The tempo drops. The vocals go inward. The instrumentation breathes slower, deeper, more dangerous. There’s nothing performative here. It’s exposed nerve endings. Just that hollow ache that follows when the anger burns out.

And then we land on “Leave You In The Past.” Acceptance. It’s the first breath of real air after four tracks of internal chaos. The guitar tone lifts. The rhythm finally breathes. Light slips back in. Pain stays, but it’s in a different shape now — less like a wound, more like a scar you can live with. And that’s exactly why it works as a closer. It ends the arc, but also points to what’s next. And conceptually, that’s powerful.

What really stands out here is the level of self-awareness in the songwriting. This is far from a typical “I’m sad and lonely, here’s three reverb pedals and a four-chord loop” heartbreak record. Turdean fully engages with the internal tug-of-war — the panic of letting go, the narcissism of blaming others, the desperate flailing to rewrite a past already locked in. And somehow, without dipping into self-pity, he channels those moments into motion. He moves forward.

The production’s tight but still raw around the edges. It’s got polish, but not the soulless kind. There’s that cracked garage rock grit underneath, but it’s guided by story, not just vibe. Like if Sam Fender had a nervous breakdown on set with Sofia Coppola. Some tracks hit like a closed fist, others spiral into full emotional collapse.

If you’ve ever tried to climb out of an emotional hole after a breakup, this indie rock EP gives you a clear path to follow, step by step. 5 SONGS TO GET OVER YOU is built entirely around progression — sound, rhythm, visuals — everything works together to guide you through the experience of heartbreak.

Tristan Turdean shows a strong understanding of relationship psychology. He translates emotional states into music, turns personal moments into a narrative, and lets that story connect with the listener on a real, individual level. Turdean doesn’t rely on clichés — he delivers a focused, structured, and deeply personal release. 5 SONGS TO GET OVER YOU is a solid example of how to talk about heavy emotions in a clear and grounded way. A great indie rock mini-album about love, loss, and finding your way back to yourself.

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