Oreaganomics kick off 2026 with Locked Out on Valentine’s Day, an album that feels like a late-night transmission from a parallel economy of the heart. The anonymous, underground collective, born in rural Kansas, sharpened in Chicago, now tucked away between Kansas and Nebraska, has built a reputation on refusing the usual spotlight, dodging stages and social feeds to let their genre-blurring sound do the talking. Recorded in the Catskill Mountains, this record threads lo-fi, R&B/soul, pop, trap, jazz, folk, and rock into a hazy mosaic of cost-of-living anxiety, wealth inequality, social critique, and loneliness, all orbiting the central ache of the single “Work Not Heart”: someone who excels at work but can’t get anyone to love them.
It all starts with “Next Meal,” the devastating opener built on soft, rumbling rhythm and deep bass that presses like a weight on the chest. The vocal is tender, soulful, while dreamy, glimmering music hovers just out of reach. The singer sighs, “It all comes down to the next meal,” bringing a double-edged sword shining off both the financial reality and the emotional sustenance. The track, as well as the single, “Work Not Heart” shifts into soothing, exhilarating falsetto over catchy, rustling beats, with its relaxing sonics undercut by the sting of being valued for output, never affection. Elsewhere, “Addicted to Emotions” leans into synth-drenched obsession and “Venus” bends time with its off-kilter feel, like love remembered through a warped VHS.
“Pull Me Under” rides pulsing, rustling beats as the singer’s falsetto turns sultry and addictive, embodying the dangerous comfort of sinking into someone you know isn’t good for you. The closer, “We Great Now Good” featuring Distinct Ink, is a full-body experience, with vintage warmth, swelling strings, and nostalgic hues wrapping a gentle, melancholic vocal that mourns while still loving. Spoken-word passages confess to pushing people away to protect a bruised heart. Llater, a calm male voice reminds us that everything eventually ends. As rumbling drums and a wailing choir rise around them, Locked Out on Valentine’s Day becomes a lifeline for anyone who’s ever felt overworked, underloved, and quietly hanging on. Check out Locked Out on Valentine’s Day on Spotify.
