From a quiet Minneapolis basement comes a sonic ache that echoes across continents. John Deering’s “Gotta Get Away” Is a haunting, deeply personal vignette shaped by global tragedy and intimate emotion. With elements of post-punk shadow, psychedelic haze, and pop-rock clarity, this track moves like smoke through grief and hope.
Inspired by images of war-time partings between Ukrainian parents and their children, Deering constructs the story of a father’s last playful moment with his daughter before she’s forced to flee. It’s a portrait of love on the brink of collapse, not through romantic drama, but through political horror. The words are few, but the emotion roars beneath the surface.
Sonically, the song is a mood piece built on fragmentation: splintered guitar textures, falsetto layers used more like instruments than voice, and percussive depth that roots the piece even as it floats with longing. The drums, provided by Peter Anderson (Run Westy Run), act as the emotional spine, while production advice from Ryan Smith (Soul Asylum) helped Deering shape the song’s unconventional form into something strikingly coherent.
There’s a rawness in “Gotta Get Away” that feels deliberate, this isn’t polished pop or a neatly resolved narrative. It’s a song of exile, both external and internal. The distorted middle section brings a flash of fury that tears through the quiet restraint; an eruption of the father’s unspoken rage, giving the piece its core tension.
A clear standout is the melodic motif, simple yet unforgettable, that lingers like an unresolved question. At one point, the energy briefly channels classic rock’s bite, with an undercurrent reminiscent of Angus Young’s defiance, before sinking back into the grey of uncertainty.
Deering doesn’t aim for grandeur; instead, he captures something far more elusive: a private catastrophe, a small goodbye that represents countless others. “Gotta Get Away” doesn’t just tell a story, it places you inside it, in the fragile space between what’s said and what’s felt.
In a world too often desensitized to tragedy, Deering reminds us how sound can rehumanize, how a falsetto echo or a lonely lyric can cut through the noise. Quietly, powerfully, he gets it right.
