Ratfink!: When U Were Mine
Beautifully Unpolished: Ratfink!’s WHEN U WERE MINE Turns DIY into Emotional Electricity
by Jack Rush
Ratfink!’s WHEN U WERE MINE arrives wrapped in DIY mythology — a fifty-dollar mic, a hundred-dollar guitar, and a beer-damaged laptop that “adds flavour” — but the charm of the album runs far deeper than its humble setup. Imperfect, intimate, slightly chaotic, and proudly human, this is alternative pop that doesn’t try to sand down its edges. Instead, it leans into looseness and lets instinct lead. The result is a record that feels lived-in rather than engineered, where emotion consistently outruns polish.
Operating somewhere between indie rock immediacy, R&B elasticity, and dream pop softness, the album refuses to settle into one stylistic lane. Rhythms sway rather than snap to grid; tempos breathe and occasionally stumble, mirroring the everyday narratives unfolding in the lyrics. There’s a subtle push-and-pull between programmed drums and more organic textures, giving many tracks the sensation of being built in real time. That elasticity becomes one of the album’s defining features — not a flaw, but a philosophy.
Synths shape much of the atmosphere, though rarely in obvious ways. Pads hover in the background, melodic fragments repeat just long enough to embed themselves, and lo-fi artifacts are left intact rather than scrubbed clean. Everything feels slightly worn around the edges, as if filtered through memory. These production choices don’t distract — they deepen the emotional grain of the record, binding together songs that drift from rock-inflected hooks to late-night dream pop confessionals.
Vocally, the dynamic between Liv and Raph gives WHEN U WERE MINE its heartbeat. Their interplay feels conversational, sometimes overlapping, sometimes interrupting, often sitting disarmingly close in the mix. That closeness suits the subject matter: friendships shifting shape, identity under quiet scrutiny, loyalty tested by time. There’s humour threaded throughout — particularly on tracks like “Gay Song” — but it sharpens rather than softens the honesty. The emotional core is direct and unguarded, even when the surrounding sonics feel delightfully unruly.
The previously released singles — “About Ya,” “Gay Song,” and “Plastic Bits” — serve as natural entry points, but within the album’s sequencing they take on added depth. “Won’t Wait Forever” opens with groovesome immediacy, its vocal blend unexpectedly lush for a record so proudly homespun. “Stevie” offers hushed, bedroom-indie charm; “Plastic Bits” grooves and growls; “Euphoria” glows with subdued indie-folk seduction. The pacing allows moods to ebb and flow organically, avoiding dramatic crescendos in favour of steady emotional continuity.
What’s most striking is how little the album postures. It doesn’t attempt to sound monumental or definitive. Instead, it captures a specific slice of shared time — domestic spaces, creative spontaneity, the electricity of hitting record because you can’t not. There’s an authenticity here that money couldn’t manufacture. In fact, it’s hard not to suspect that with bigger budgets and shinier tools, some of this record’s magic might evaporate. The understatement is the charm; the looseness is the hook.
Ultimately, WHEN U WERE MINE stands as a confident reminder that great songs don’t depend on gloss. Concept over kit. Substance over spectacle. Ratfink! have crafted an album that feels like a shared secret passed between friends — slightly off-balance, deeply sincere, and undeniably infectious. By the time it ends, you don’t just remember the songs. You remember how they felt. And that’s the kind of impression no amount of studio polish can replicate.
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