Matthew Lee and the Standbys hit an emotional high note with "Carousel"

There's something magnetic about a song that captures the ache of wanting someone or something, by extension, that you realize you shouldn't. And with "Carousel," from Matthew Lee and the Standbys, it's a licking, fuzz-drenched ride through the sine curve swinging through the heart's back-and-forth battle with longing, regret, and that maddening little voice that will not shut up.

"Carousel," It's atmospheric, raw, soaked in the sort of emotions you can't fake. As those pleading vocals slice through the fog, they land with a sense of bruised authority, the authority that only loving hard and losing harder and yet daring to hope can bestow. By the time the drums and gentle electronic touches kick in, you're already latching yourself in for the ride. "Carousel" is no different, capturing us with sincerity and a touch of spookiness in all the right ways.

Sound-wise, the song pays homage to grungy antecedents like Bush while incorporating that group's penchant for melodic polish, much like early Coldplay. But make no mistake, this is very definitely a Matthew Lee and the Standbys affair. That emotional alt-rock pulse of feeling we fell in love with in "Falling Apart" is still pumping hard, but now just adorned in slightly different colors. Where 'Falling Apart' was musicalized as 2 am anxiety, 'Carousel' feels like the 3 am aftermath when the silence is louder and the voice of the heart can no longer be ignored.

The tension in the lyrics here is brilliant: "My head's screaming you can't win, but my heart's saying it's coming back again." It's the kind of line that not only sticks, but loops in your head, like that "carousel" the song is named after. It's clever, a touch self-aware, and profoundly human. There is heartbreak here, yes, but also self-examination and perhaps even a glimmer of humor. From their forthcoming debut album, "Black Book," this track serves as further evidence of what we already knew: Matthew Lee and the Standbys are making more than just tunes; they're creating the soundtracks for our inner monologues.