Mike Bloom’s ‘Natural Disaster’ arrives suspended in time, glowing at the edges with a sort of heartbreak you can’t quite name but somehow recognise.
Best known for lending his musical DNA to others- from indie royalty like Jenny Lewis to genre chameleons like Julian Casablancas- Bloom now steps into the spotlight on his own terms. He does it not with bombast, but with vulnerability spun in synths and snowfall. ‘Natural Disaster’ drifts somewhere between 80s-inspired dream-pop and indie introspection, awash in falsetto, shimmering textures, and the aching hush of a love unravelling.
Lyrically, it’s dense in the best way- poetic, precise, and strangely serene, even when it’s tearing through emotional wreckage. One minute you’re caught in metaphor (“arrows are drawn/asleep with your war paint on”), and the next you’re face to face with a quiet truth: “Is it love that you’re after/or a natural disaster?” It’s a devastating question, delivered with the softness of someone who’s already lived the answer.
What makes this track land so deeply isn’t just the atmosphere- it’s the craftsmanship. Every element feels intentional, the way the synths swell like storm clouds, the guitars shimmer and decay, the falsetto cracks in just the right places. ‘Natural Disaster’ is one of those rare songs that manages to sound massive but also so close and personal.
If this is the beginning of Bloom’s return as a solo artist, then it’s a quiet triumph- unassuming but undeniable. Songs like this remind us that emotion, when treated with care, doesn’t need to shout to be heard. Sometimes it just needs to be shared.