Omeria

Omeria stumbles back into Moodfamily like he never left, carrying a lofi gem tucked under his arm.

"Lucky," they call it. That damned word we all cling to when we’re too tired to admit how little control we have over anything. But somehow, he makes it work—every twist, every turn, like life’s little hiccups, pulling you up only to knock you down again. It’s all there, in the track, in the way the sounds bite and linger, never settling. Deep, head-banging grooves rub elbows with off-kilter voices, and those crooked synths… they don’t ask for permission.

It’s messy, jagged, and just the way it should be—memorable not because it’s perfect, but because it’s honest.