Welcome back to Finetuned! This week is in a similar vein to last week’s sonically and in the department of being unique. We are going to be chatting about Roar, but also about the sounds this genre of music produces and why I think it’s impactful. This is going to be a double whammy of a thought-piece and an album rec. I’ll leave the heavier thought piece portion (Frolicking In The Weeds) towards the end of the newsletter here!
Roar is the musical project of Owen Richard Evans (hey nice name dude), a Phoenix, Arizona-based multi-instrumentalist, singer, and producer. Originally a member of the band Asleep in the Sea, Owen launched Roar in 2010 following the group’s breakup, where his goal was to channel his creativity into a more personal, emotionally rich outlet. Though Roar is largely a solo effort in the studio and its creative choices, Owen is often joined by a rotating lineup of musicians when performing live! The project rose to broader recognition in the late 2010s, especially after the viral spread of the song “Christmas Kids” on TikTok (oh but of course, TT is such a vessel to explode creatives into the stratosphere).
The general vibe of Roar’s music balances this feeling of bittersweet nostalgia with intricate brushstrokes that showcase Owen’s pop craftsmanship. He does such a great job of combining lo-fi indie aesthetics with lush orchestration, blending surfy/wavy guitars, vintage-style vocal harmonies, and dramatic, often theatrical arrangements. While rooted in indie pop, the sound definitely draws influence from 1960s pop, doo-wop, and baroque rock (think The Beach Boys, The Beatles, etc.), creating a mood that’s simultaneously playful, melancholic, and deeply personal.
Roar’s sonic landscape is a rich collage of vintage textures, layered vocals, and emotional swells. There is often this juxtaposition of upbeat, major-key melodies with heavy or unsettling lyrical content, creating a dissonance that’s both charming and haunting. You’ll hear sparkling guitars, sweeping strings, falsetto vocals, and analog-inspired synths arranged in complex, cinematic structures.
His music often sounds like it's coming from an old jukebox in a dream. It’s familiar, yet warped by memory and feeling. The compositions are polished without being overproduced, often feeling like carefully constructed reflections of personal turmoil wrapped in bright, catchy packages. It’s music that invites repeated listening, as each track reveals deeper emotional and musical nuance over time.
Let’s break down two of my favorite releases of theirs, Impossible Animals (2016) and I Can’t Handle Change (2010). I Can’t Handle Change (their debut EP) is a rawer, more stripped-down collection that still showcases Owen’s uncanny sense for melody and sonic texture juxtaposition. The production is lo-fi for sure, but layered with dreamy harmonies, reverb-heavy guitar lines, and bright vocal stacks. Songs like “Christmas Kids” hide chilling narratives behind sweet, retro-pop hooks. Which places abusive relationships and trauma with bubblegum melodies, a haunting side-by-side. Thematically, the EP is grounded in grief, isolation, and self-awareness. It reads as a meditation on endings (of bands, relationships, and belief systems) and explores how we should or do hold onto beauty in the midst of loss, both in these specific examples but also more generally. This EP feels very, very Beach Boys.
On Impossible Animals, Roar’s sound expands into something that is more sonically grand and emotionally layered. The album introduces more orchestral flourishes and intricate arrangements while maintaining Owen’s signature throwback pop feel. Tracks like “Boy” and “Hope” weave together distorted guitars, lush harmonies, and dramatic strings, evoking a feeling of yearning and emotional disorientation. There's a cinematic melancholy that runs through the record, contrasting sweetness with sorrow in a deeply intentional way. It honestly gives me heavy vibes of The Beatles and even Alex G.
Lyrically, Impossible Animals deals with themes of loss, religious disillusionment, and emotional vulnerability. Owen will often couch heavy subjects in poetic, abstract phrasing, making them feel deeply personal yet universally resonant.
Why listen? Roar makes music that is at once nostalgic and deeply original. It is painfully human stories told through beautiful, unforgettable pop. If you like your songs sweet on the surface but devastating underneath, Roar offers the kind of emotional punch that lingers long after the final note.
A Step Further - Impossible Animals (the rec of this week) is a hauntingly beautiful blend of vintage pop and emotional storytelling, layering orchestral arrangements over introspective lyrics. It’s the kind of album that rewards deep listening. It is achingly human, sonically rich, and unforgettable in its quiet intensity.
Listen Wherever You Are⤵
Finetuned Rec 👇
While the actual rec here is for Impossible Animals, you should also listen to I Can’t Handle Change. Both of these records paint a different picture of Roar, but both are pieces I’d hang up in my home. Enjoy the jams Finetuners!
artist - ROAR
album - Impossible Animals
album rating - 9.4/10
fave track - The Ocean
hon. men. #1 - Explosion of Birds
hon. men. #2 - Dream
🌿welcome to the weeds - messy, pungent, but cerebral 🌿
This unique corner of the indie pop genre feels like a thesis on relatability and connection. On the surface, these songs form cohesive compositions, but when you listen more closely, you begin to feel the textures and production choices in a way that goes beyond structure. It’s not simply or just music, it's sensation. Layered into that foundation are lyrics that swing between the deeply abstract and disarmingly direct, creating a strange but powerful effect: your brain either short-circuits a little or locks in completely.
Take Alex G and Roar, for example. They are artists who both live under the indie umbrella but construct entirely distinct sonic worlds. Roar leans into lush, baroque pop, full of orchestral swells, stacked harmonies, and theatrical energy. Owen’s work nods to 1960s chamber pop (wtf is chamber pop? read me) and doo-wop, with clean guitars, dramatic strings, and tightly compressed vocals sitting squarely in the foreground. There’s something cinematic in how Roar uses stereo space and dynamic shifts.
Alex G, on the other hand, operates more like a sonic scrapbook of sorts. His songs are lo-fi and collage-like, pulling from bedroom pop and experimental folk. Production is raw by design. The specifics can be found in things like how the guitars drift in and out of sync, vocals that are warped or buried, and warm acoustics that rub against synths. His music feels intimate in its imperfections, like overhearing someone's inner monologue through a cracked door. Where Roar reaches outward with a structured, dramatic sheen, Alex G turns inward, offering a fragmented, cryptic palette that finds feeling in the friction.
Thanks for reading here, Finetuners! I do hope you all have enjoyed this week’s Finetuned. I’d appreciate any insights, admiration, or otherwise. You can email me here: [email protected].
Please do share Finetuned with your friends & fam & whoever else! I believe great music should be shared, cherished, and understood from all sorts of perspectives.
See you all in the next one! 🙌
(Sources: Wikipedia, Bandcamp, The Luna Collective, Last.fm, Pitchfork, Bandcamp Daily, AllMusic, Uproxx, The FADER, Stereogum)