It begins with a howl. The disappointed howl of a single man, like the howl of decades from voices never heard while a helicopter hovers with menace above. ‘I’ve got nothing left to say,’ he tells us. ‘I’ve lost everything I had, and I’m not angry, I’m not mad,’ he reassures a culpable nation built on plunder.

And so it begins. A song. A film. With a clarity of voice, a clarity of vision that somehow feels lessened if it were called just a music video. Because it’s so much more.

With the able hand of Hiro Murai’s direction, this video carries unfathomable weight on its shoulders, with a grace and lightness of touch that is deeply arresting.

There is no indictment. No direct accusation, in lyrics or images. And still, we can’t help pine for a lost innocence that was likely never there. ‘I’m in love, but I’m still sad. I found peace, but I’m not glad’ we hear while a young boy stands alone at an intersection he’ll never cross. Our illusion of where our society’s debts lie quietly shattered as a police car violently strikes a life.

This video is nothing short of breathtaking. Its beauty surpassed only by its effortless, haunting substance. 

It leaves you crushed. It leaves you hopeful. It leaves you a different person than before you watched.

Already a stand-out video this year, and one of the finest examples of Murai’s directorial voice.