Released back in April 2025, Samia’s Bloodless doesn’t ease you in. It doesn’t set a scene, or sketch a theme, or gesture politely toward its emotional terrain.

Instead, it begins with “Biscuits Intro,” a strangely disarming, 15-second, half-formed prologue — a murmured invocation that feels like a fragment of a memory rather than a proper song. It’s small, but it matters: a quiet door cracking open into an album obsessed with absence, erasure, and the unsettling ways identity can warp when examined too closely.
A body examined, a self unspooled
The fascination with bodily hollowing — the sense of being scraped out, inspected, or left partially intact — gives the album a surreal emotional vocabulary. These images don’t function as shock tactics. They serve as a language for a person trying to understand what has been lost and what remains.
“Bovine Excision” and the album’s first rupture
Where the intro is feather-light, “Bovine Excision” lands with eerie precision. Samia sings like someone examining their own emotional damage under fluorescent lights — clinical, calm, disquietingly detached. The grotesque metaphor at the center of the song becomes an emotional X-ray, revealing what tenderness looks like when stripped of its comforting language. (The lyric, “I wanna be untouchable”, always gets to me.)
It’s the first moment where the full gravity of the record becomes clear. Samia isn’t documenting a breakdown; she’s inhabiting one.
It’s a f**king great song.
A sound shaped by restraint
The production throughout Bloodless is meticulous in its avoidance of spectacle. Guitars whisper instead of roar. Synths drift in and out like passing thoughts. Drums often pulse faintly, more heartbeat than percussion. Rather than building toward predictable crescendos, the album hovers in a space of unresolved tension.
This refusal to resolve isn’t evasive — it’s emotional realism. Samia is exploring the state between damage and recovery, where clarity is possible but conclusions are not.
Track highlights: the emotional spine
“Hole in a Frame”
A spectral pop song distorted by emotional uncertainty. Its hook is undeniable, but it feels slightly out of reach, suspended in the unease it describes. Samia takes a melody that could’ve been comforting and twists it into something beautifully haunted.
“Lizard”
One of the album’s quietest and most emotionally dangerous songs. Her voice is so close to the microphone it feels like skin contact — and yet there’s a trembling distance in her delivery, as if she’s observing her own fear from the outside.
“Dare”
Here, Samia edges tentatively toward self-repair. The song pulses with a subtle spark of resolve but never indulges in triumph. It’s hope in its most fragile form — half-formed, but hard-won.
“Carousel”
This just drifts in a hazy, weightless mood as Samia circles themes of longing and uncertainty. The looping melody and soft, trembling vocals mimic the feeling of being stuck on an emotional ride you can’t step off. It’s one of Bloodless’s most delicate, hypnotic tracks—quiet, intimate, and beautifully disorienting.
“Pants”
A devastating closer. Where many albums chase catharsis, Bloodless ends with something quieter and more truthful: the acknowledgment that healing is not a finish line but a practice. Samia’s delivery here is unguarded and startlingly intimate… “And how long has it been here? And how long have I been here? But wait, what is that sound? It’s sharp, it’s sad, it’s loud.”
A vocalist who understands the power of a whisper
Samia has never been a showy singer, but Bloodless finds her using restraint as a weapon. The slightest waver in her voice can be more devastating than a scream. She leans into the fragility of her tone, letting cracks and hesitations tell the story that words alone can’t.
An album that refuses to become what you expect
In an era when pop-adjacent records often feel engineered for maximalist emotional release, Bloodless is radical for its refusal to resolve anything. It sits with discomfort. It wanders through ambiguity. It offers no clean moral, no shiny revelation.
It’s the rare album that feels small on first listen and enormous on the tenth — expanding in emotional dimension each time, like a bruise darkening into clarity.
It doesn’t offer catharsis. It offers truth.
Rating: 9.0/10.0
Chris Garrod, December 9, 2025
Buy/Stream from here: https://samia.ffm.to/bloodless
