“Hellya” by Less comes as a clenched fist finally opening—and then swinging. This track declares intent, as the sound of an artist deciding how she wants to be heard and refusing to shrink herself any longer. Born out of a suffocating period of apathy and emotional overload, “Hellya” captures that restless, ugly in-between space where you’re exhausted, stuck, and furious about it. She questions commitment, identity, freedom, and creativity, aches wanting to make music without being boxed into expectations or forced into constant performance.
The title itself says it all. “Hellya” may not exist in any dictionary, but it doesn’t need to. It lands like a raw exclamation—anger, rebellion, and the urge to break free all mashed into one word. You can sense the strong desire to escape into fantasy, to leave the cage behind and exist purely as a musician, not a product.
Sonically, the track wastes no time setting the mood. It opens with fuzzy, gritty guitar riffs that swallow the space whole, paired with sparkly yet insistent cymbals that splash and shimmer overhead. Less enters with a deep, thick voice that sounds worn down and heavy, singing in a defeated, despondent tone. She opens the song singing about staying in bed and lacking the inspiration to even get up. It’s so relatable like all of us has been there at least one point.
Then the chorus hits—and everything lifts. Her voice soars, finally releasing all that bottled-up frustration as the guitars drive harder and the cymbals bustle with urgency. It’s loud, intense, and cathartic, like taking a full breath after holding it in for too long.
“Hellya” is messy in the best way—angry, honest, and alive. It breaks the walls down and runs straight through them, carrying the energy of an artist who’s ready to fly and wants you right there, listening.
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Review by: Naomi Joan