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BRYTWD's "Choose Love" Is a Psychedelic Anthem That Finds Hope in the Chaos

  • Writer: Jennifer Gurton
    Jennifer Gurton
  • 51 minutes ago
  • 4 min read

At a time when outrage often feels louder than optimism, BRYTWD arrives with a reminder that choosing compassion can be its own form of rebellion. The Seattle-based indie rock collective's latest single, "Choose Love," is less interested in chasing radio trends than creating an immersive emotional experience, blending psychedelic rock, gospel harmonies, and expansive songwriting into a six-minute journey that refuses to rush its message.


Drawing inspiration from the organic spirit of classic psychedelic records, "Choose Love" embraces imperfection as a strength rather than something to polish away. Every instrument breathes naturally, with shifting tempos and evolving arrangements that make the song feel alive. Instead of relying on pristine production or predictable pop structures, BRYTWD lets the music unfold organically, giving each section room to build toward moments of genuine emotional release.


Lyrically, the song carries surprising emotional weight beneath its uplifting surface. Rather than ignoring heartbreak, frontman Bryan Costanich reframes it as proof that love was real in the first place. That perspective transforms "Choose Love" into something far bigger than a feel-good anthem. It's a meditation on resilience, celebrating the full spectrum of human experience while arguing that joy itself can be an act of resistance in difficult times.


What makes the single especially compelling is its refusal to conform. Clocking in at six minutes, it's a deliberate rejection of the short-form attention economy, inviting listeners to slow down and fully absorb every dynamic shift, soaring gospel vocal, and psychedelic flourish. The result feels refreshingly timeless, recalling the adventurous spirit of classic rock while remaining emotionally relevant today.


For a band making its public debut after years of private songwriting, "Choose Love" feels remarkably confident. It's an ambitious introduction that values authenticity over algorithms and human connection over perfection. In a musical landscape increasingly shaped by convenience, BRYTWD reminds us that the most rewarding experiences are often the ones willing to take their time.



"Choose Love" presents joy as an act of resistance rather than simple optimism. What personal experiences or observations inspired you to frame love as a conscious choice during difficult times?


Joy is an act of resistance because resistance itself is a choice. Choosing love, especially during heartbreak or in the face of political and social turmoil, is an intentional act. The song is a reminder that what makes life meaningful is the full spectrum of human experience. I've spent years writing heartbreak songs that helped me process difficult moments, so I wanted to challenge myself to write something joyful instead. The lyric, "Celebrate the broken heart, 'cause it means that you just felt love," reflects that idea. The hard moments don't diminish the good ones—they give them meaning. Life becomes richer when we embrace both the joy of deep love and the pain of losing it.


The song intentionally stretches to six minutes in an era dominated by short-form content and algorithm-driven music. Why was it important to reject those industry expectations, and what do you hope listeners gain by staying with the song from beginning to end?


There's a quiet rebellion in allowing a song to take the time it needs. For decades, great songs have been cut down to fit commercial radio, and now algorithms encourage artists to reduce music to a few seconds of attention-grabbing content. I wanted to resist that. Our songs should determine their own length, free from corporate expectations or social media trends. We aren't making music for someone endlessly scrolling—we're making music people can live inside. Good stories need room to breathe, and by stretching those moments of joy, listeners can experience a complete emotional journey instead of just a passing hook.


The recording embraces live performance, changing tempos, and natural imperfections instead of polished digital precision. How does that analog approach better communicate the emotional message behind BRYTWD's music?


For me, music becomes magical when it's a physical, shared experience. Sitting alone at a computer assembling parts never feels the same as being in a room with other musicians, feeding off each other's energy in real time. That philosophy begins with the songwriting itself. Life doesn't happen to a click track. Relationships, emotions, and even our heartbeats naturally speed up and slow down, so our songs do too.


The Japanese concept of wabi-sabi; finding beauty in imperfection, is central to BRYTWD. It's our rejection of an increasingly polished, autotuned, AI-generated landscape. Those imperfections remind us that we're still human, creating something together, and that's what makes the music feel honest.


This release marks the evolution of BRYTWD from a solo vision into a six-piece collaborative band featuring gospel vocalists and musicians from diverse musical backgrounds. How has working with this collective changed your songwriting and expanded what BRYTWD can become?


Working with this band has brought me much closer to the music I've always envisioned. I have a huge catalog of singer-songwriter material in the vein of Leonard Cohen or Elliott Smith, but the dream was always to surround those songs with a big, psychedelic, gospel-inspired sound. Now I get to work with an incredible group of musicians who each bring something unique.


The Gartrell Gospelizo Girls; Jasmine, Javonne, and Heleina, create harmonies that sometimes feel almost transcendent. Julie Slick constantly pushes the boundaries of what's possible on bass. Keith Wayne adds a spacious, psychedelic guitar style, while Cameron Boher blends his punk background with complex jazz-inspired rhythms. When I bring a song to the band now, it transforms into something far beyond what I could have created alone. It's become a truly collaborative process.


"Choose Love" feels both deeply personal and quietly political without becoming preachy. How do you strike the balance between making a statement about the world while still creating a song that people can connect with on an individual level?


I needed to write a song that reframed negativity and illuminated something hopeful. We're living through incredibly turbulent times, and I wanted to create something that made me dance through the chaos instead of simply being overwhelmed by it.


One thing I admire about Glass Animals is their ability to write about real human experiences while making music that's impossible not to move to. Dancing has a genuine physiological effect on our mental health, it helps us heal. That's what I wanted Choose Love to do. The song acknowledges the darkness around us while reminding listeners that choosing joy, love, and movement is still possible, even in difficult times.

 
 
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