On February 13th, British alternative/indie trio Amber Run released their new EP Sunflower. Across four tracks, the EP feels like an honest collection of moments, offered exactly as they were conceived. Long known for soundtracking heartbreak, grief and emotional fragility, Amber Run remains rooted in vulnerability – yet Sunflower gently shifts their emotional focus. It allows warmth, hope and reflection to sit alongside the familiar melancholy.
As the band shared ahead of its release, these songs are about family in all its forms: the one you’re born into, the one you choose, and the people you love and lose along the way. There’s a sense of freedom running through the EP: the band is rather trusting their instincts than overthinking their sound.
The EP opens with its title track, ‘Sunflower’, which immediately sets the emotional tone. Gentle and quietly uplifting, the song feels like a soft exhale. It is still unmistakably Amber Run, but lighter in spirit. Built around gentle instrumentation and Joe Keogh’s emotive vocals, the track unfolds patiently, allowing its intimacy to settle. Lyrically, it is rooted in devotion and reassurance, offering vulnerability as something shared rather than faced alone.
There is a contrast between softness and strength throughout the song, most poignantly captured in “My love, you’ve petals for your skin, so soft and delicate it is, It hides a fire that burns within.” It’s something that mirrors the song’s sound: gentle on the surface, yet quietly powerful underneath. Written as a love letter to Keogh’s now-wife, ‘Sunflower’ doesn’t grab attention; it earns it through honesty. It is probably one of the most tender and uplifting songs the band have released to date.
Where ‘Sunflower’ leans into warmth and reassurance, ‘Jane’ pulls the EP into darker, more fragile territory. The song is not offering comfort, it sits with discomfort, exploring the aftermath of love unravelling and the realisation that when someone leaves, the only certainty left is yourself.
Lyrically, ‘Jane’ is rich with imagery that brings up emotional claustrophobia and unresolved tension. “This creaking house is deafening, the silence is a symphony” captures the weight of unspoken feelings, while the recurring metaphor of “oil on the canvas” suggests something once beautiful becoming heavy and stained. Love here is neither romanticised nor simplified: “Love’s not always easy, it’s bitter and it’s sweet”. It is presented as something complex, painful, and deeply human. ‘Jane’ stands as one of the most emotionally honest moments on the EP. It’s a reminder that some songs aren’t meant to heal instantly, but to acknowledge hurt as it exists.
After the emotional weight of ‘Jane’, ‘The Roses’ pushes the EP into its darkest space. The song is driven by obsession and imbalance. It is framing love as both salvation and destruction and there is a striking sense of helplessness woven into its core. Lines like “I’m a puppet in my body, pulled strings” and “Hands tied, sweet lies” reflect a sense of powerlessness. It feels like the narrator is aware of the toxicity but unable or unwilling to escape it. The repeated plea “Please let me go” reinforces the feeling of being trapped in a cycle of longing and self-sacrifice. ‘The Roses’ doesn’t offer clarity or comfort. Instead it confronts the listener with the raw truth that love can sometimes consume more than it gives.
Closing track ‘Home (demo)’ feels like a quiet exhale. Stripped back and intimate, the demo feels intentionally unfinished – not careless, but deeply human. The song revolves around intimacy in its smallest forms: shared afternoons, whispered conversations & borrowed clothes. After the emotional heaviness of the preceding tracks on this EP, ‘Home (demo)’ feels like stepping into a softer light. There’s no grand climax here, just the quiet desire to belong and to feel safe in someone else’s presence.
Ending the EP on ‘Home (demo)’ feels deliberate and thoughtful. It doesn’t erase the pain explored earlier, but reframes it, suggesting that after grief, obsession, and loss, there is still space for gentleness. Sunflower is not closing with answers, but with openness: a fitting conclusion to an EP that prioritises honesty over certainty.
This EP doesn’t shout to be heard, it stays with you because it doesn’t have to. Its strength is in the quiet moments, in the things left unsaid, unresolved, and deeply human. The band carries these songs across Europe on their acoustic tour right now, so make sure to check them out if they come near you (you can find tickets here). Sunflower is a reminder that sometimes music doesn’t need answers, it just needs to be felt.
Written by: Justine Kostka
Edited by: Nèri Cliteur
