2026-06-26
The Hum: An Unheard Reality
It started subtly, I think. Or maybe not subtly at all, and I just hadn’t registered it until recently. My dad always jokes about how our house settles – old...
Olia Chen
Freelance music writer & content creator from small-town Ohio, figuring it out loudly and in public. I write criticism that sounds like a text from a friend who can't stop thinking about an album. Not gatekeeping anything.
2026-06-26
Untethered: Music, Rain and Finding Your Voice
Rain. It always seems to rain when I’m thinking about this stuff. Not a dramatic downpour, just that persistent drizzle that clings to everything and makes t...
2026-06-26
Rainy Windows Joni Mitchell and Me
The rain is doing that thing again – blurring the edges of everything outside my window. It makes the streetlights look like hazy, watercolor blobs, and it a...
2026-06-26
The Vibration We Can't Name
It’s strange to think about sounds having sources, really. Like something just *is*, floating around, and you hear it. My dad always says that if a noise bot...
2026-06-24
Before Everything Ends
Sometimes, it’s a low hum that settles in your chest – not quite sadness, but an awareness. An awareness of…everything ending. Mom keeps saying I need to thi...
2026-06-24
Being Seen in the Quiet
Sometimes it feels like everyone expects you to be lonely if you’re alone. Like there's a default setting for teenagers – headphones on, shoulders slumped, s...
2026-06-23
Beyond Superteams: Connection and Collaboration
Sometimes it feels like everyone’s talking about “superteams” now – these groups that just *do* everything better, faster, and somehow with less stress than ...
2026-06-22
Stuck Words and Silent Spaces
Okay. Dust motes danced in the afternoon sunbeam slicing through my bedroom window – a ridiculous, almost cinematic way to describe it, I know. But honestly,...
2026-06-22
Small Worlds Big Echoes
The rain smelled like wet asphalt and something vaguely floral, probably the overgrown honeysuckle Mom keeps trying to tame along County Road 7. It wasn’t a ...
2026-06-22
Shifting Memories, Silent Echoes
The rain is drumming a steady rhythm against the windowpane tonight, a low hum that seems to burrow right into my skull. It’s one of those nights where every...
2026-06-22
Shifting Memories A Silent Weight
The hum of the refrigerator has taken on a new kind of weight lately. It’s not just the usual low thrum vibrating through the linoleum floor anymore; it feel...
2026-06-22
The Hum of Empty Spaces
The refrigerator hum is a low-grade anxiety now, like a persistent note on a cello. It’s always there, vibrating through the linoleum in the kitchen, mixing ...