Gus Thompson’s “Wasting Time” hits with that same emotional tension you feel in Leona Lewis‘s “Bleeding Love“—that slow build with a beat that seems deceptively simple but tightens its grip as the song pushes toward the break. Gus leans into that tension with a staccato rhythm, his voice squeezed tight, almost like it’s wrestling with itself, teetering on the edge. Even as the tension slowly unwinds and his delivery starts to soften, there’s a thread of anxious questioning that doesn’t quite let go—like it’s still hanging on by its fingertips.
You feel the self-doubt and frustration creeping in; it’s like a weight on your shoulders, but in the best way, the kind that makes you lean in a little closer. “Wasting Time” nails that particular flavor of anxiety that marked my twenties, where I was sure of nothing except that I was somehow getting it all wrong. Gus captures that restless energy, that feeling of circling the drain, wondering if you’re running out of time or if you’ve already missed the mark.
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