Energy Whores’ ‘Electric Friends’ arrives as one of the duo’s most deliberately restrained and concept-driven releases to date…
- Flex Admin
- 14 minutes ago
- 2 min read
A track that exchanges their sharper political fire for something quieter, more internal, yet equally incisive, ‘Electric Friends’ is built around steady electronic pulses - the song unfolds with a kind of clinical patience, mirroring the emotional distance that defines its subject: the illusion of intimacy created through screens.
Carrie Schoenfeld’s vocal delivery is calm, almost cool to the touch. It isn’t distant, but it is observant — as though she’s documenting the behaviours of a world unable to recognise how lonely it has become. Her lyrics are some of her most concise: avatars trapped in jars, emoji-faced stand-ins, friends powered by electricity alone. Each line functions like a small thesis statement on digital existence, highlighting how much emotion we outsource to glowing rectangles.
“Electric Friends’ is a wry, slow-burning exploration of how technology mediates modern connection,” says Schoenfeld. “Without electricity, all those curated illusions of online friendship dissolve, leaving us to face what’s real and what isn’t.”
Instrumentally, the track is intentionally minimalistic. The synth arrangement is spacious, giving the production a slightly suspended quality, while the electronic drums keep a soft, unwavering rhythm. Nothing ever explodes; nothing ever resolves dramatically. And that is precisely the point. ‘Electric Friends’ mirrors the emotional stasis of constant connectivity — a hum rather than a heartbeat.
Where previous releases like ‘Pretty Sparkly Things’ or ‘Hey Hey Hate’ leaned heavily into societal critique with bright hooks or pounding electro-protest grooves, this track’s power comes from its restraint. It doesn’t push listeners to move; it pushes them to recognise their own habits.
The song’s message becomes clearest in the final passages: without electricity, these manufactured friendships disappear. What remains is the unfiltered self — the part of us that technology often keeps at bay. With ‘Electric Friends’, Energy Whores present a quietly devastating commentary on modern connection, handled with precision and a rare level of artistic self-control.
