Saburnia's "Even" is just restraint. In a music landscape cluttered with overproduction and endless layers, this track strips everything back to its essentials and finds profound emotional depth in that simplicity. It's the kind of song that proves you don't need much when you have the right elements in perfect balance.

The production is almost shockingly minimal. A one-bar guitar riff cycles throughout the entire track, never deviating, never evolving, just repeating with hypnotic consistency. The drums are equally sparse. A loose kick and something muted in place of a snare, creating rhythm without demanding attention. The bass plays just two notes through the whole song. 

This minimalism serves the song's emotional core perfectly. "Even" is about distance, uncertainty, and the desperate need for reciprocation. "Am I feelin' you feelin' the same way?" The stripped-back production mirrors that vulnerability, creating space where every element feels exposed and honest. There's nowhere to hide in a mix this bare, and that's exactly the point.

The only moments of release come with the long "Ooooo" sections, and even these are handled with remarkable restraint. A single loud guitar strum punctuates the sustained vocal, then immediately drops back to the riff. It's a tiny dynamic shift, but in the context of such minimal production, it feels huge. Like a moment of emotional breakthrough before retreating back into the pattern.

The second chorus shows the song's only real evolution. When the "Ooo" comes in again, brass (trumpet or similar) and piano join the arrangement, finally giving the track some additional color and texture. But even here, Saburnia doesn't overdo it. The additions feel deliberate and measured, enhancing rather than transforming the song's essential character.

Lyrically, the song captures long-distance relationship anxiety with impressive economy. "Even at a distance / Even when I'm callin' every time / Even when you miss it" sets up the central tension immediately. The repetition of "even" emphasizes the effort, the reaching across space, the uncertainty of whether it's landing. Lines like "I just wanna feel it on the line / Somethin' to believe in" cut right to the heart of it. The need for tangible proof of mutual feeling when physical presence isn't possible.

The chorus question, "Am I feelin' you feelin' the same way?"—is asked over and over, never quite getting answered. That repetition, combined with the unchanging instrumental backing, creates a sense of circling around the same anxiety without resolution. It's frustrating in the best way, mirroring how these thoughts actually work when you're unsure where you stand with someone.

The details in the lyrics are surprisingly tender. 

The ending is perfect. An intentionally wrong chord on the piano, like someone accidentally sat on the keys. It's playful, imperfect, and human. After all that repetition and emotional intensity, the song ends not with grand resolution but with a mistake left in. 

"Even" works because it trusts in the power of simplicity. One riff, two bass notes, minimal drums, and a vocal performance asking the same question over and over. The song creates space for the listener to sit with the uncertainty, the longing, the hope, and that space is what makes it resonate. It asks you to lean in, to meet it where it lives, to find the emotion in the repetition. And if you do, it rewards that attention with something genuinely affecting.