In their debut single, Ten Days, George, Sophie Kyle Collins, BF ’23, gives us a glimpse into their personal diary—each song a carefully-penned entry punctuated by rich, confessional vocals and poetic lyrics. The mosaic painting in the background of the single cover is a piece Collins created themself—a testament to the deeply intimate and colorful nature of the project that was written and recorded by Collins.
The first track, “Ten Days,” weaves a tapestry of love and loss. The song immediately opens with Collins’ melancholy vocals:
“I’d been sleeping in the middle of my bed/ Till I saw you and you said what you said/ Now I lay down alone/ and I wake up making room.”
The quality of the piano has a hymn-like effect, as Collins meditates on their breakup in verses like “Why’d I kiss you then you might ask/ If only to taste your guilt and sadness.” Collins navigates moments of their relationship, coloring it with tenderness, longing, and regret. The simple accompaniment and lyric-heavy focus are reminiscent of the folksy stylings of Joni Mitchell, one of Collins’ biggest inspirations. We can hear traces of Mitchell’s “River” in “Ten Days,” as Collins’ alto-soprano voice echoes across the scarred vignette of love. The song rises and falls with grief and hope and eventually crescendos to a haunting, bittersweet resolution: “It’s ten days in the new year / I’m gonna get through. You can get there too.”
Next on the single, we meet “George,” a song Collins wrote when they were only sixteen. Collins serenely croons over the timeless strums of the acoustic guitar. “George” chronicles a moment in “the wide winking world.” In one of “George’s” most poignant lines, Collins reflects on how “we wash ourselves with million-year-old rain.” The song feels universal and comfortingly circular—we are drawn into a lush soundscape of ancient nature, led by Collins’ dreamy vocals. Singing to George feels like a shout into the void, but there’s something cathartic about calling someone who will never answer; it feels peaceful, constant. In this sense, “George” is a gorgeously etched soliloquy of Collins’ introspective mind.
Collins has entered the indie-folk scene in a way that feels both nostalgic and fresh.
Ten Days, George showcases Collins’ keen storytelling skills and marks the beginning of their promising future in music.
You can listen to Ten Days, George here.
In their debut single, Ten Days, George, Sophie Kyle Collins, BF ’23, gives us a glimpse into their personal diary—each song a carefully-penned entry punctuated by rich, confessional vocals and poetic lyrics. The mosaic painting in the background of the single cover is a piece Collins created themself—a testament to the deeply intimate and colorful nature of the project that was written and recorded by Collins.
The first track, “Ten Days,” weaves a tapestry of love and loss. The song immediately opens with Collins’ melancholy vocals:
“I’d been sleeping in the middle of my bed/ Till I saw you and you said what you said/ Now I lay down alone/ and I wake up making room.”
The quality of the piano has a hymn-like effect, as Collins meditates on their breakup in verses like “Why’d I kiss you then you might ask/ If only to taste your guilt and sadness.” Collins navigates moments of their relationship, coloring it with tenderness, longing, and regret. The simple accompaniment and lyric-heavy focus are reminiscent of the folksy stylings of Joni Mitchell, one of Collins’ biggest inspirations. We can hear traces of Mitchell’s “River” in “Ten Days,” as Collins’ alto-soprano voice echoes across the scarred vignette of love. The song rises and falls with grief and hope and eventually crescendos to a haunting, bittersweet resolution: “It’s ten days in the new year / I’m gonna get through. You can get there too.”
Next on the single, we meet “George,” a song Collins wrote when they were only sixteen. Collins serenely croons over the timeless strums of the acoustic guitar. “George” chronicles a moment in “the wide winking world.” In one of “George’s” most poignant lines, Collins reflects on how “we wash ourselves with million-year-old rain.” The song feels universal and comfortingly circular—we are drawn into a lush soundscape of ancient nature, led by Collins’ dreamy vocals. Singing to George feels like a shout into the void, but there’s something cathartic about calling someone who will never answer; it feels peaceful, constant. In this sense, “George” is a gorgeously etched soliloquy of Collins’ introspective mind.
Collins has entered the indie-folk scene in a way that feels both nostalgic and fresh.
Ten Days, George showcases Collins’ keen storytelling skills and marks the beginning of their promising future in music.
You can listen to Ten Days, George here.
