Eyal Erlich: Honest Songs in a World That Doesn’t Listen Enough
- Spit Mad
- Sep 25
- 2 min read
Eyal Erlich doesn’t dress his songs up in fancy clothes. He doesn’t have to. What makes him stand out with “All in All,” “Jenny,” “Already In,” and “I Wish I Knew” is the commitment to telling the truth plainly, in words and melodies that feel lived in. There’s no spectacle here—just humanity, and that’s the point.
“All in All” might be the strongest statement of his ethos. The lyric lands heavy: “I got my symphony and I got rent / Got no sympathy, and my life’s spent.” That’s not just a clever turn of phrase; it’s the artist’s dilemma written in permanent ink. The song aches with compromise—the balancing act between art and survival, love and fatigue, the hope of connection against the certainty of time running out. The chorus, “All in all, to be with you,” doesn’t resolve the tension, but it makes it bearable. Musically, it feels like a weary traveler pushing forward anyway, which makes it resonate even more.
“Jenny” is the heartbreaker. Jenny herself is never fully revealed—she’s a kite, a paper man, a purple heart, a sunken treasure. She’s also every person you’ve ever loved and lost, or couldn’t hold onto. That ambiguity is the song’s strength. Instead of telling us who Jenny is, Erlich leaves room for us to fill in the gaps with our own ghosts. The melody mirrors that fragility, steady but never forceful, creating space for the listener’s own memories to surface. It’s the kind of songwriting that sneaks up on you and stays lodged in your chest.
Then comes “Already In,” which feels like a burst of light after the darker tones of the first two tracks. There’s a looseness, a sense of surrender, both lyrically and musically. “Baby, your waves have made my shore” and “I can’t wait, can’t wait to sin” capture the dual nature of love—at once grounding and destabilizing. The song pulses with optimism but not naiveté; it’s a confession of being swept up in something bigger than yourself. The rhythm reinforces that sense of inevitability, carrying the listener forward whether they’re ready or not.
“I Wish I Knew” closes the set in stark contrast. It’s bare, confessional, and almost haunted. “The murder weapon is you” is not a line designed to make you comfortable. Neither is “Your clenching teeth keep him near.” These are lyrics written in the heat of pain, not polished for marketability. Musically, the track breathes in silence as much as in sound, letting the weight of the words linger. It’s not a song that resolves anything; it’s a song that admits the questions remain, and that honesty is what makes it powerful.
What ties these four songs together is Erlich’s refusal to flinch. He’s not reinventing anything, but he’s refusing to lie, which is rarer than it should be in 2025. These songs hold a mirror up to the listener. You might not like everything you see in the reflection, but you’ll recognize it as true.