Okay so picture this. It’s a Thursday and you’re getting ready to go out but your phone buzzes and it’s HIM – the one who somehow always times his reappearance for the moment you were almost over it. You stare at the notification for a solid thirty seconds. You’ve been on his damn rotation so long you forgot you were allowed to leave. I know this man. I have absolutely made decisions about this man that I will not be elaborating on. The point is, ‘Only Sometimes’ by Leah McFetridge walked into my life and said everything I was too drunk on the potential of him to say out loud. This track is for every woman who finally got tired of being someone’s option and decided to become her own damn priority. The self-respect era has a soundtrack now and it grooves.
The production on ‘Only Sometimes’ is giving you no fucking choice but to feel confident. Glossy synth layers over a bass line that moves through you, and the whole thing stays exactly where it needs to be. It’s dance pop with a disco soul that sounds expensive and controlled at the same time. Leah’s got Dua Lipa’s pop instincts working alongside Victoria Monét’s smoothness and the whole thing just slides. You could absolutely dance to this at pregame and also have a full emotional reckoning on the drive there.
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The first verse opens on this suspended, waiting feeling. “I waited for a sign a knock at the door / but silence don’t lie and I’m wanting more / you are the echo I want to hear / but I’m the only one standing here.” God, that last line. She’s the one who actually showed the fuck up. She wanted the real thing and kept getting the shit end of it. The production underneath is cool and controlled, which makes the longing in her voice hit so much harder. She’s just done. That’s the most dangerous energy a woman can have, for the record.
Then comes the pre-chorus and Leah pulls the whole thing into focus. “I’m not holding space for maybe / I need someone who sees me clearly / I won’t stand in line / for a love that’s only sometimes.” Standing in line for love. I felt that shit in my body. We have all stood in that line in shoes that were killing us completely convinced it would be worth it. The chorus unloads it. “you break me down (sometimes) / you hold me close (sometimes) / and then you let go / act like you don’t know me I’m over the show.” The “sometimes” dropping in like a parenthetical is genius. It’s the whole relationship compressed into a word. He shows up sometimes and treats you like a stranger immediately after. Full boyfriend energy, zero boyfriend intentions. Classic. The show is over and she’s the only one still standing in the venue, finally ready to go home. Took her long enough, but we are not in a position to judge.
There’s a section that I keep coming back to because it’s so goddamn precise. “if I’m not on your mind / then I’m sorry, that you fell behind / you had a chance, now you want more / I’m done falling for almost I want something more.” That “I’m sorry, that you fell behind” is such a cold read. The anger is gone. She turned the corner and looked back and he’s not there. The second verse drives it home: “I gave you room and I gave you time / but you stayed a stranger on the other line / you were busy or maybe not, either way / I’m not waiting for another day.” She doesn’t even care which one it was anymore. That’s the real flex.
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Leah McFetridge is a Perth-based singer-songwriter who’s been low-key building something for years while the rest of us were sleeping on her. She trained at WAAPA, got her Contemporary Music degree in 2018, and has been working Perth’s live circuit ever since with a live looping setup that’s honestly kind of insane to watch, she’s layering her own vocals in real time until there’s a whole damn song. Her sound pulls from funk, disco, soul, and R&B with pop instincts sharp enough to put her in the same conversation as Dua Lipa and Victoria Monét but her actual obsession is old-school – Earth, Wind and Fire, Luther Vandross, the Bee Gees. She’s performed with the Perth Symphony Orchestra and shared stages with names that matter in the WA music scene. She’s been writing her own music since high school and she’s finally letting the world catch up.
She processed the almost-relationship and came out the other side with something that grooves. There’s a confidence in that. Women who’ve done the work on themselves make the best music and this is proof.
I never did text him back that Thursday. Deleted the notification and walked out the door like someone who had somewhere better to be. Turns out I did. ‘Only Sometimes’ will do that to you. Leah McFetridge wrote this from the other side of all that waiting, from that place you get to when you stop needing answers and start moving anyway. The groove pulls you forward and her voice just settles into it. She decided she was worth more than sometimes. The song is proof she was right.
