Convo with Ubiquity Machine

“Angela” isn’t just a song. It’s a confessional set to a slow heartbeat—part hymn, part haze, and unmistakably human. With its warm Rhodes keys, cinematic atmosphere, and lyrics that ache with restraint, Ubiquity Machine have carved out a track that doesn’t shout for attention but somehow holds it completely.

At first listen, “Angela” feels like it wandered in from a dream you almost remember. There’s that pulsing bass, a splash of trip-hop moodiness, a dry drum groove straight from the golden days of 70s AM radio, and a vocal line that floats just above it all, vulnerable and knowing. But peel back the layers, and you realize this isn’t just retro homage—it’s a fully modern meditation on longing, self-doubt, and the strange, sideways ways we try to say what we mean.

Yes, Angela is real. But she’s also myth. She’s the muse, the moment you wish you’d handled differently, the couch you hoped to stay on just a little longer. There’s this delicate push-pull throughout the track: “Angela, I belong / Can I stay just a little?” It’s a chorus that feels both universal and specific, like the kind of thing you whisper into the dark, hoping someone hears—but afraid they will.

The band’s creative process mirrors that emotional complexity. A riff arrives. A melody hums in. And suddenly, there’s a world being built. Lyrically, “Angela” leans into ambiguity without losing clarity. There’s no overt resolution. No tidy narrative. Just a slow-burning question that never quite gets answered—and maybe shouldn’t.

Sonically, “Angela” balances analog warmth with modern sheen. The production is intentional without being slick—everything in service of the song’s emotional core. An old Fender P bass locks in beneath a Rhodes-style keyboard, while modern synths and subtle effects color the edges. The extended fade-out, the heavy ride cymbal, even the drum fills—they all signal a band in full command of their palette, wearing their influences with pride but never as pastiche.

The Easter eggs are there if you’re listening—nods to Elvis Costello, dusty love letters, sticky Valentines. But what lingers most is the heart of the song: the fear of asking to stay. The quiet devastation of maybe not being wanted back. The strange comfort of putting it all into a song instead of saying it out loud.

Ubiquity Machine have always blurred genre lines, but “Angela” feels like a chapter marker. It’s a step toward their next sonic evolution, one shaped by classic songwriting but fused with experimental textures and emotional immediacy. With producer Jordan Lawlor in the mix, their upcoming work promises to push these boundaries even further.

If “Angela” were a film scene, it might be something out of Reservoir Dogs—emotional carnage hidden under cool sunglasses, someone bleeding out quietly while pretending not to be the one hurting. It's that kind of vulnerability. And it lands.

So what do you say to the listener who’s exactly there right now—stuck in limbo, loving quietly, unsure whether to speak up or just… stay?

You probably don’t. You just play them this song.

And maybe, just maybe, they’ll understand what they’ve been trying to say all along.

Follow up the interview below.

1- "Angela" feels like a love letter whispered under neon diner lights. Was there a real Angela behind the song—or is she more of a symbol?

Yes – there’s a real Angela… and this is definitely a love letter to her… communication is difficult and it’s sometimes easier to make some art to explain your feelings than actually say those words out loud to the person you love… it’s somehow easier to tell the whole world than to be emotionally vulnerable to a person one-on-one. 

2-There’s a line—“You got the love I need / Kinda love that I believe”—that hits like a soft gut punch. Do you remember when those lyrics first came to you? What space were you in emotionally?

When you have given a lot of love and it’s been misguided or mistaken or abused or just taken you can get quite jaded … Before I met Angela I had given up on finding a love I could believe.  

3-This track has such a cinematic mood—late-night, hazy, a little bittersweet. Did the sound come first, or did the story lead the way?

Typically, with songwriting I get a riff or musical idea and a melody plays in my head… then the adventure starts! After that, all bets are off as you write and re-write the song, add or change themes and riffs, get inspired or hear something new and rewrite.  For Angela, I had the lyrical idea and had in mind a 2025-sounding song with classic roots, which would pull on alternative music themes, some elements from trip-hop and dance music I like, but all in an emotional mood that would connect. I hope we made it!

4-You describe it as a “slow-burning question.” What question, deep down, do you think the narrator is afraid of the answer to?

I think the narrator is afraid of the answer.

5-There’s this delicious tension in the chorus: “Angela, I belong. Can I stay just a little?”—like the speaker wants to stay forever but is scared to ask. How do you write that kind of vulnerability without tipping into cliché?

Are you saying I achieved that?! Well – thank you! Perhaps I might add…  Honesty goes a long way to avoiding cliché. If you sincerely mean it, who cares if someone said it before, or even a thousand times?

Finally, being honest about your feelings and admitting what you want … and that the other person might not reciprocate … seems the safest course. And then… not being surprised when they break your heart, anyway. 

6-There’s a nod to a “sticky valentine” and maybe even Elvis Costello hidden in there. Are those kinds of Easter eggs intentional—or just part of your subconscious musical language?

Ha! Yes – there are definitely easter eggs in our music and lyrics!

7-From a sonic perspective, the track walks this tightrope between dreamy and grounded. What gear or production choices helped you shape that atmosphere?

Pretty early on in the process, we'd made the decision to make a song that would fit with today’s music scene, but really lean-in to a 70s AM pop-radio vibe, so that led our charge. A simple bass line on an old Fender Precision, coupled with a Rhodes style keyboard, and a big, dry sounding rock drum kit was absolutely what this song needed. We layered on top some interesting sounds and modern synths. All the elements had to support the vocal melody and propel it all forward. Everything from the extended choruses with a heavy ride cymbal bell, the big drum fills, and, of course, a longer fade-out. We wear our influences loud and proud!

8-Do you think love songs today still have room for ambiguity, or is that something you deliberately leaned into with ‘Angela’?

The song is about not knowing where you stand in a relationship that you desire…. So I think it’s perfectly ambiguous.

9-You’ve always been known for bending genre lines. Where does “Angela” sit in your creative evolution? Is it a pivot, a return, or something entirely new?

Angela is definitely a step in the directly of the next Ubiquity Machine Album… it’s in production right now and we have the esteemed Jordan Lawlor producing, which is helping us explore classic songwriting and with relevant and ‘state of the art’ pop / alternative / dance / trip-hop/jip-hop elements

10-There’s a sense that this isn’t just a love song—it’s also about wanting to belong. How much of that comes from your own experience navigating the world, relationships, and art?

100%.

11-If “Angela” were a scene in a film, what’s happening? Where are we, and what’s the look on her face?

Probably any moment from Reservoir Dogs. I’d bleeding out on the floor but I can’t admit I’m a cop.

12-You’ve said, “We’ve all been there.” What would you say to the listener who’s exactly there right now—hoping to stay on someone’s couch forever, not sure if they should ask?

Have fun, be respectful and be groovy, baby!  You can say anything to anyone if you follow those commandments.

Any advice is complicated to give or receive.. so I’ll leave you with these words of wisdom from JRR Tolkien:

“Go not to the Elves for counsel for they will answer both no and yes… advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise, and all courses may run ill.”