Samina - "Friend"
New York City indie-pop artist Samina didn’t want to close the book on 2020 without treating us to another gorgeous tune. So, earlier this month, she dropped her second-ever single, a hauntingly beautiful ode to the one that got away called “Friend.”
From the very beginning of “Friend,” you can feel those very relatable tinges of aching regret in Samina’s voice, as she wades through a kind of painful nostalgia - one in which she reflects on small moments of affection with an unrequited love interest. She describes a wave of once dormant, but intense feelings that re-emerge when returning to a familiar environment, likening them to “that fairytale where you hope that person comes running back to you.” In sifting through her memories, Samina revisits some of those small, fleeting moments, like twisting a ring on the finger of the object of her affection, and that time he once gently held her in a school hallway. In describing the meaning behind the song, Samina shared that she wrote “Friend” in order to help her process and overcome this still burning heartache:
I wrote “Friend” in an attempt to move past the heartbreak of losing someone who was never mine to begin with. It was harder since I was never with this person, and I think I definitely idealized what it could have been in my head. That’s what the song is about, really. We take small moments and hold onto them, building them up in our head to the point where we no longer know what’s real and what isn’t. And at some point, you just have to let go.
The song’s deeply personal and reflective lyrics are perfectly complemented by it’s firm and steady instrumentation. Across its roughly three-minute runtime, the song is steered by a smoothly paced beat and delicate, patient guitars. Give it a listen when you return home for the holidays - especially if you have to excise an old flame from your psyche.
You can stream “Friend” on your platform of choice. Keep up with Samina by following her on Instagram and Twitter. You can also like her on Facebook.
