You know how sometimes an artist releases a project that feels less like a traditional music release and more like the kind of thing you’d hear while walking alone in a misty forest, grappling with your sense of self, and suddenly becoming okay with crying about it? That’s Camino. Plàsi (a.k.a. Mikael Bitzarakis), the Greco-Swedish singer-songwriter with a name that sounds like a Scandinavian furniture line and a voice like it’s made entirely of sustainably-sourced felt, has given us a five-track EP that dares to whisper its way into your soul.
From the opening seconds, Camino announces itself not with a bang, but with a kind of pleasant existential sigh. The title track even comes with cheerful whistling and what can only be described as “yoga retreat bongos,” paired with lyrics about walking your own path. It’s the musical equivalent of quitting your corporate job to take up pottery and never looking back. And you know what? It works.
What makes this EP compelling isn’t some flashy production trick or sudden genre pivot; it’s the slow burn of a man very sincerely telling you that self-discovery is possible, and also, hey, here’s a vibey acoustic guitar to go with that idea. Plàsi’s music is often described as “introspective,” but that undersells the emotional accuracy with which he peels back the layers of human nonsense. Case in point: “Father’s Eyes.” This is the emotional centerpiece of the EP; a track that dares to look its own familial trauma squarely in the eye and go, “Yup, that’s messed up. Let’s write a gentle indie-folk song about it.”
The production here is deceptively intricate. Created between Stockholm and Amsterdam (which, yes, sounds like the pitch for an A24 film), Plàsi worked with his Röda Paradise collective and longtime collaborators Hannes and Linus Hasselberg, bringing warmth and subtle complexity to every track. There’s a kind of spiritual IKEA-ness to it all: simple on the surface, but oddly profound once you spend some time inside it.
And that’s really the strength of Camino. It’s not trying to be cool. It’s not begging for your Spotify likes. It’s just a man with a guitar, some ambient textures, and a quiet determination to be emotionally honest. And while that might sound quaint in a world full of algorithmic chaos and genre-blending spectacle, it’s also kind of radical.
So yes, this is an EP about walking your own camino, but it’s also about permission. Permission to be earnest. Permission to feel things without irony. Permission to make art that isn’t desperate to go viral. And honestly? That’s refreshing as hell.
If you’ve ever stared out a rainy window and thought about your relationship with your dad, Camino is the EP for you. It’s emotionally literate, musically refined, and just self-aware enough to avoid turning into an accidental parody of itself.
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About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for publications in the US and former lead writer of Atop The Treehouse. Reviews music, film and TV shows for media aggregators.
