“ELECTRIC FRIENDS” by Energy Whores

Energy Whores have never shied away from turning discomfort into clarity, and “Electric Friends” continues that mission with chilling elegance. The New York duo — led by composer, producer, and unapologetic truth-teller Carrie Schoenfeld alongside guitarist Attilio Valenti — once again carve a space where electronic rhythm meets social reckoning. But this time, instead of fire-brand protest, the burn is quiet, psychological, and unsettlingly familiar. “Electric Friends” unfolds like a slow revelation in a room full of screens. The production hums with a low, neon tension: pulsing synths, vapor-thin pads, and an electronic heartbeat that feels both intimate and far away. The arrangement never rushes. It creeps in, layer by layer, much like the digital friendships the song dissects — alluring on the surface, hollow underneath.

Schoenfeld’s vocals hover above the mix with eerie calm. She doesn’t accuse; she observes. Her tone captures the numbness that grows when connection becomes performance, when attention becomes currency, and when the glow of a device begins to replace the warmth of real presence. The restraint in her delivery is striking. Instead of leaning into anger or alarm, she sings from a place of exhausted honesty — the moment when illusion finally cracks. “Electric Friends” examines the architecture of modern loneliness. The song traces how online intimacy can feel electric in the moment yet leave nothing behind once the power is cut. Avatars, curated personas, perfectly timed reactions — all of it reads like affection until the silence between messages becomes louder than the words themselves.

Energy Whores turn this emotional sleight of hand into a quiet parable about the cost of mistaking visibility for connection. What makes the track so effective is its duality. On one side, the beat is hypnotic, almost comforting, drawing the listener into a synthetic cocoon. On the other, the atmosphere grows increasingly cold as the lyrics strip away the fantasy. That contrast — pulse versus emptiness, glow versus void — is where the song hits hardest. “Electric Friends” stands as one of Energy Whores’ most introspective works to date, a piece that replaces confrontation with disillusioned clarity. It’s a song for anyone who has felt surrounded yet unseen, connected yet untouched — a reminder that the heart cannot run on electricity alone.