There’s something subtly haunting about “VDX,” the latest single from Alex B Kurbis. The track, fifth on his upcoming album Victory, reflects not only on personal milestones but on deeper layers of metaphysical possession and surrender. Released on October 3, 2024, this track stands as a tribute to Alex’s ten-year anniversary with his wife, Alice. Beneath this tender dedication lies an undercurrent of emotional exploration— one that swirls with feelings of love, submission, and transformation.
Opening with the metaphor of a journey, “VDX” invites the listener to follow a path— one that doesn’t necessarily lead to clarity but instead into the self, a realm where thoughts are exchanged, and identity shifts like aluminum replacing skin. “Confess! You’ve been swapping my thoughts for your thoughts,” Alex sings, setting the tone for a piece that blurs the line between autonomy and submission. The lyrics evoke a sense of becoming someone else, of yielding to another’s will, but without resistance, more like a willing transformation—a place “right where I want to be.”
His take on indie emo punk rock aligns with this narrative, carrying a mellow yet insistent rhythm, typical of Kurbis’ emo-indie fusion. Alex channels a slow, deliberate pace, one that mirrors the deliberate exchanges in the song’s theme: the measured progression of identity as it morphs, almost imperceptibly, under another’s influence.
The song is about Alex’s personal relationship, but it touches on something larger—how relationships can alter us, reshape us into something new, and often, that change is not just welcome but sought after. As Alex himself said in a recent commentary, “The lyrics deal with a metaphorical possession and surrender of one’s will to their supernatural lover. Don’t ask me why.”
It’s not hard to see why Alex refers to “VDX” as one of his “prettiest songs yet.” The softness with which he approaches these existential themes of identity and love make the song approachable, even comforting. But there’s always an edge, a hint that this surrender is not entirely innocent—”Count backwards from a billion,” he intones at one point, evoking a sense of inescapability, as though this journey, once begun, can only move forward until everything else falls away.
In the context of his larger body of work, Victory seems poised to explore the many faces of love—both the sweetness and the darker, more complex shades. And as always, Kurbis delivers these themes without melodrama, preferring subtlety over spectacle. The simplicity of his style, an honest blend of fusion of punk rock, emo, and indie, remains a vehicle for much deeper reflections.
