There’s something quietly subversive about Kristen Castro’s “Summer Rain.” At first listen, it seems like a soft, shimmering slice of indie pop; the kind you’d expect to soundtrack a wistful sunset montage in an A24 film. But lean in, and there’s more going on here. Like a summer storm itself, it rolls in gently, obscures the horizon, and leaves everything a little changed.
This is the second single from Castro’s upcoming album, and if you haven’t been paying attention to her yet, it’s time to catch up. She’s not just writing her songs; she’s producing them, mixing them, arranging every detail, and breathing life into each track entirely on her own terms. This isn’t some major-label assembly line operation; this is what DIY actually looks like. It’s long nights alone in front of a DAW, balancing frequencies and feelings with equal intensity. It’s one person quietly doing the work of five, not for clout, but because it’s the only way to make it sound right.
Sonically, “Summer Rain” draws a straight line to early Purity Ring, with those whisper-close vocals layered over electronic textures that feel organic and synthetic all at once. There’s a warmth beneath the digital haze, like memory filtered through an old camcorder. The track pulses with the same kind of intimate, eerie glow that made Shrines so hypnotic: the synths flicker like soft lightning in the distance, and the beat moves like something half-submerged, hesitant to break the surface.
But here’s the twist: where Purity Ring often leans into glitchy surrealism, Castro aims for emotional clarity. “Summer Rain” may sound dreamlike, but it’s grounded in real, aching feeling. Her voice doesn’t drift off into abstraction; it delivers every line with precise vulnerability, like someone writing a diary entry in lowercase to avoid scaring themselves.
Lyrically, she sidesteps cliché by being unsettlingly honest. This isn’t about a breakup. Rather it’s about the ambient emotional weather after one. The unspoken questions. The half-imagined closure. The sense that you’re haunted not by a person, but by the space they left behind. It’s not devastation; it’s dissociation with reverb. And it’s beautiful.
In an industry obsessed with virality and streaming metrics, Castro’s approach is almost rebellious: no teams, no shortcuts, just pure creative control. Every sonic decision in “Summer Rain”, from the crystalline synth tones to the intimate vocal layering is hers, and you can feel it. The song carries the unmistakable texture of lived-in artistry, of someone who knows exactly what they want to say and how they want it to sound.
Kristen Castro’s “Summer Rain” is a quiet moment of queer introspection in a genre that too often demands spectacle over sincerity. There’s real defiance in that choice; to take up space not with volume, but with vulnerability.
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About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for various publications around the world, the former lead writer of review blogspace Atop The Treehouse and content creator for Manila Bulletin.
