“5…4…3…2…1...” and just like that Zachary Mason launches an EP That’s Out of This World!
- Esther
- 2 hours ago
- 4 min read
When we last heard from Zachary Mason, he was funking through the cosmos with “The Funky Martians”, a tongue-in-cheek burst of sci-fi swagger that turned disco fever into interstellar satire. Now, with the full EP “5…4…3…2…1…” landing, Mason widens that universe and raises the emotional stakes. What was once a playful transmission from orbit has become a cinematic countdown to departure as a journey from groove to gravity. The humor’s still there, but so is a creeping melancholy, a sense that this time the rocket might not come back. It’s the sound of an artist evolving from space-age showman to world-weary storyteller, fusing art, psych, and indie into a countdown that feels both catastrophic and strangely hopeful.
There’s a satisfying theatricality to Zachary Mason’s debut EP 5…4…3…2…1…, a three-track, 16-minute miniature odyssey that begins with a countdown and never lets you forget you’re hurtling toward something unknown. From the opening rocket roar through reverb-soaked vocals and spacey guitar lines, Mason builds a small, self-contained world, part late-70s space-psych, part modern indie reverie, all mapped to a gently apocalyptic story about leaving a ruined Earth behind. The title track does the heavy lifting. It opens as if someone has just punched “lift off” in a literal roar that dissolves into a pulsing groove and cinematic guitar work. Mason’s voice drifts in drenched in reverb, conversational one moment, plaintive the next -
“We really blew it with the system… Systems launch countdown commencing...”
That mix of deadpan humor and existential dread in the lyric “we won’t be back” repeated like a sudden, rueful mantra, is the song’s core tension. Sonically it tips its hat to Bowie’s more spaceborne moments without copying them; you get the theatrical shimmer of Ziggy-era psych but with a modern, less-flamboyant restraint. What makes the EP consistently engaging is Mason’s command of atmosphere. The arrangements are economical but layered, fluid, hypnotic chord progressions, a rhythm section (Nate Barnes on drums, John Thomasson on bass) that anchors the orbit, and tasteful synth touches that shimmer like heat on a cockpit window. Derrick Lin’s mix gives the record room to breathe, the low end is warm and present, the guitars sit wide, and the vocal reverb becomes another melodic ingredient rather than a wash of indistinct sound.
Mason sketches clear images of melting ozone, fossil fuels in luggage, evacuation lists that read like postcards from a reluctant exodus. There’s a wry edge too; a throwaway line about remembering to “pack the wives” lands with an odd mix of satire and discomfort. It’s a bold tonal choice, sometimes it reads as darkly comic, but at other moments it clashes with the earnest environmental alarm the rest of the EP conveys. That tension can work, it makes the narrative human and messy but at times it feels like a jolt in an otherwise carefully measured mood. Mason plays with tempo and expectation in smart ways. The pulse is relaxed, not hurried, which creates an unusual effect: the songs feel urgent precisely because they don’t rush. Guitar solos and melodic turns arrive where you want them but never overstay; the solo in the title track is catchy without telegraphing its destination. Across the EP, there’s an appealing unpredictability, small shifts in groove, sudden washes of reverb, and moments of quiet that remind you the countdown is still running. This project also benefits from context, Mason (real name Daniel Macintyre as you know from his previous reviews) brings a prolific background in songwriting and a steady hand for narrative. His previous singles and features suggest a restless creativity, and his literary pursuits under his given name show through in the lyrics’ compact storytelling. The EP feels like the work of someone who writes constantly and then refines as there are no fat moments, only carefully placed detail. If the record has a weakness, it’s that its three songs tease a larger story without fully delivering closure. The conceptual promise of humanity leaving a broken world is vivid, but some listeners may want a deeper emotional centre or a more clearly drawn protagonist to follow. A longer form (or even a fourth track) might let Mason unpack the ironies he hints at the simultaneous comedy and tragedy of human stubbornness, the awkwardness of exile, the rituals we carry into the void.
Still, 5…4…3…2…1… works beautifully as a calling card. It’s at once nostalgic and contemporary, cinematic and intimate, with production that favors atmosphere over overproduction. It’s the kind of short-form record that rewards repeated listens as the first time through you ride the rocket; by the third, you’re picking up the little melodic cues and lyrical callbacks that make the EP coherent. A cinematic lift-off into the emotional unknown, where nostalgia and apocalypse dance in the same gravity. As the final echoes of 5…4…3…2…1… fade into the atmosphere, Mason doesn’t just leave us suspended in orbit but he leaves us wanting more transmissions from his strange, shimmering universe. If you haven’t yet joined the countdown, now’s the time, cue it up, turn the lights low, and let Mason take you past the stratosphere. The scene may be over, but the story’s only just beginning. Listen below!
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You can check out and follow Zachary Mason’s musical journey on his website here: https://zacharymasonmusic.com