Okay so I’m currently watching my friends split into three categories and it’s fucking with me. There’s the crew still closing down bars at 3am, the ones posting ring photos and nursery pics, and then there’s me and a few others just… existing in this weird limbo trying to figure out what the hell adulthood actually means. That’s the space Kelsey Kindall lives in on ‘Pityparty,’ and damn if she doesn’t nail every messy, beautiful moment of it.
‘Pityparty’ wraps up Kelsey Kindall’s three-part series ‘The Parties,’ and this is where shit gets real. ‘Goodbye Party’ was the rush, ‘Afterparty’ was the crash, and now we’re sitting in that uncomfortable morning-after space where you actually have to deal with your life. The whole thing is synth-heavy chill pop that doesn’t rush you. Four tracks that let you sit in your feelings.
Kelsey’s been building momentum in San Francisco – over 200,000 streams, playing spots like The Independent and Café Du Nord. She’s got this way of writing that burrows into your brain and stays there.
“Pityparty is about what happens when the high settles,” Kelsey says. “It’s heavier at first, but the more you grow, the more you realize that’s where living really is.” And holy shit, you can hear that weight in every track.
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The first track ‘Martini’ slides in with this cutting honesty about the games we play when we’re too scared to just say what we mean. It opens and Kelsey’s already done with the games. “I like my bitter drinks / I’m older than I think / I’m running out of time / To live apologetically” – her patience is gone. You know that person who suddenly gets “honest” after two drinks? Kelsey’s over it. Some people need drinks to say what they actually think. The bullshit excuse gets old fast. The production stays minimal here, bass and synths holding steady while she cuts through with “Don’t blame the martini / Just say what you’re meaning,” and it fucking lands.
God, the exhaustion of playing that game. You get to a point where you’re just done with the cryptic shit because life’s too short. When she sings “You seem to have a way with words / Wait for a drink to say the worst / It’s a blind side / You’re holding back the whole time,” I felt it. That’s the whole fucking dynamic right there. The track builds with this restrained tension that never explodes, which somehow makes it hit harder. It’s grown-woman energy wrapped in synths and a bassline that won’t quit.
Then she flips the switch with ‘Addicted,’ and suddenly we’re chasing that high we all pretend we don’t need. This one’s about the validation rush, the way success and attention can become their own drug. “Everyone screaming my name / Like when I’m playing the game / I could get used to the fame” opens the track, and Kelsey isn’t shy about admitting how fucking good it feels when things are finally happening. The production pulses with this driving energy that matches the lyrical content perfectly.
What gets me is how honest she is about the darker side of ambition. “Is this as good as it gets / Nights that I wanna forget / I’m feeling the side effects” – there’s the comedown. She’s chasing validation, getting what she wanted, and still feeling empty. Pride keeps her going but satisfaction never catches up. “Craving what I know I’ll never get / Fill it up I’m not finished yet” speaks to that hunger that success creates instead of filling. The track maintains this relentless pace. You finish it feeling as depleted as she sounds.
From there, ‘Orbit’ slides in to wreck you emotionally. This is the track about having to get over the same person multiple times because they keep pulling you back in. “This feels familiar / The tightening in my chest / When you are with her” opens with this aching recognition we’ve all felt. The production is sparse and cyclical, literally putting you in that loop of trying to move on and failing.
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Kelsey captures the frustration of knowing exactly what someone’s doing to you and still being unable to break free. “Spinning round in circles on repeat / Can’t seem to escape your gravity / Stuck in orbit” – that’s it. The whole track in three lines. “My world revolves around you / I know you’re used to that view / I would give you the moon / That would mean you’d have to choose” lays it bare. She’s offering the moon and he still can’t make a decision. The song stays stuck in that loop on purpose. There’s no resolution because there isn’t one in real life either.
By the time the record closes with the title track ‘Pity Party,’ we’re deep in the existential spiral of watching everyone around you move at different speeds. “I didn’t drink / But I got high / Pray to God that no one dies / Lie awake on restless nights / Thinking what does it all mean” sets up this late-night anxiety we all know too well. Some friends are getting engaged while others are still blacking out on weekends and here I am wondering if I’m behind or just on a different timeline entirely.
The production here is introspective and builds slowly, matching the gradual shift from fear to acceptance. “I used to like dancing / Thought life was magic / Then we all blinked / Thinking what the hell happened” captures that moment when you realize childhood is over and nobody gave you a manual. She goes from “Change is a burden that I never asked for” to “Change is the way that I find what I’m made for.” That evolution isn’t neat or polished. “Then I ate the apple / Now I feel naked / But hope is more sacred” – that biblical loss of innocence hits different when you’re talking about your twenties. “It might be heavy in the beginning / But the more that I grow / The more that I’m living” – she earned that line. You can hear it.
Kelsey Kindall started in musical theatre back in Pennsylvania. Full-ride scholarship, premiered work at the Eugene O’Neill Theater in New York, the whole trajectory. When the pandemic hit, she went all in on music. She’s been working with producer Will Duncan since 2020 – they matched on a dating app, the romance fizzled, but turns out they write better songs together than they dated. Their sound mixes theatrical storytelling with production that hits you in your damn chest.
‘Pityparty’ isn’t here to give you a roadmap. Kelsey’s fumbling through this shit same as the rest of us, making messy choices and calling it growth. Stream this whole thing and sit with it. Stream this whole thing and sit with it.
