woze hollow’s “bebe’s k.i.d.s.” hums in a weird strange frequency between innocence and awareness — where the world first starts to look too big, too bright, and just slightly off. It’s experimental, sure, but not the kind that pushes you away. Instead, it pulls you in, softly — all warm synths and flickering memories, like an old VHS tape replaying the part you never understood as a kid.
There’s a sweetness underneath the weirdness. The late-’80s glow of the pads, the slightly detuned keys that sound like they’ve been awake too long, the way the rhythm moves just enough to keep you swaying. It’s not a song that demands focus; it invites it. You drift, you catch a detail, you smile. There’s something tender in how carefully it’s put together — this balance of chaos and calm, the kind that leaves your head nodding and your heart a little bit achey.
Brett Rosenberg, the mind behind woze hollow, calls his project a way to explore discomfort and curiosity — and that’s exactly what’s happening here. “bebe’s k.i.d.s.” feels like that moment when you realize the cartoons you loved were actually dark all along, and now you can’t unsee it. But rather than mourning it, he builds a playground out of the loss. Each synth feels like a pixel of childhood, repurposed and reframed — strange, yes, but beautifully so.
About woze hollow:
Coming from Rochester, NY, woze hollow sits comfortably in that odd space between nostalgia and futurism. His music sounds homemade and human, but with the precision of someone who’s been crafting sound long enough to know when to let it wobble. “bebe’s k.i.d.s.” could’ve lived on a tape deck in 1989 or a Bandcamp page in 2025 — and that’s its quiet brilliance. It’s timeless in its uncertainty, which somehow makes it feel like a small classic already.
Follow woze hollow: