“Who Cares?” is the kind of track that bounces in with neon hooks and swagger, then lingers with that late-night introspection we all pretend not to feel. CATBEAR, the Brighton-based duo that somehow manages to sound both timeless and unmistakably now, have bottled the dissonance between dancing and disassociating and turned it into gold.
On “Who Cares?”, Zoe and Sarah wrap social anxiety in glittering alt-pop armour. There’s a nervy energy beneath the bright production—punk-tinged percussion, synth lines with a pulse, and a vocal delivery that balances bite with fragility. It’s the musical version of getting ready to go out, cancelling three times, then showing up anyway with too much eyeliner and a mental escape plan. “You want to go out and be part of things,” says Zoe, “but you’re already working out how long you have to stay before it’s okay to leave.” I felt that. Hard.
And then you have the chorus—catchy enough to hum three hours later, smart enough to stop you in your tracks. Lyrically, it’s a well-crafted internal monologue that doesn’t beg for sympathy or resolution. Instead, it just exists with honesty. That’s what CATBEAR does best: they don’t dress things up, they dress them down to their emotional core and hand them to you in danceable form. It’s relatable in the way you want your best friend’s texts to be—funny, self-aware, and just a little bit unhinged.
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If you’ve been following CATBEAR since “Beast of the Night”, this is a clear evolution. Still DIY, still deeply personal, but with more muscle in the production and sharper edges to their songwriting. From house party beginnings to touring with The Subways, they’ve honed their craft without losing the raw charm that made them stand out in the first place. Their sound moves between eras—’80s synths, ’00s indie-pop, present-day realness—but their voice (and Zoe’s voice—what a timbre) is all their own.
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