Gwynn Davies’ new project The Definition of Insanity, A Commodity, A Human Being, arrives with the kind of title that already feels like it’s squinting at the state of the world and asking, “Okay, but are we doing this on purpose?” It’s long, it’s slightly unwieldy, and it immediately tells you that this is not a project interested in subtle background vibes. This is an EP that wants your attention, your time, and probably your emotional availability. Preferably uninterrupted.
At its core, The Definition of Insanity, A Commodity, A Human Being is Gwynn Davies doubling down on who he is as a songwriter. There are no production tricks here, no sonic fireworks meant to distract you from what’s being said. Instead, the EP leans hard into stripped-back acoustic arrangements and close, intimate vocals that feel less like a performance and more like someone sitting across from you and talking through something they haven’t fully processed yet. This is music that assumes you’re actually listening. If you’re looking for something safe, polished, or passive, this is not that project. It’s quiet, but it’s not gentle.
What stands out immediately is how emotionally loaded the songwriting is. Davies doesn’t waste time dressing things up. The lyrics arrive plainly, almost conversationally, but they carry a lot of weight. There’s a sense that these songs weren’t written to impress so much as to survive. The melodies are restrained, sometimes almost hesitant, which makes the emotional punches land harder when they arrive. This is one of those records where the silence between lines matters just as much as the lines themselves.
The project opens with “Dark Days & The Ripples In Between,” which sets the tone by refusing to offer easy catharsis. This isn’t a triumphant climb out of despair; it’s about the commitment to keep fighting even when you’re exhausted and not convinced it’ll get better. There’s something refreshingly honest about how unromantic this struggle is portrayed. It’s not inspirational in a motivational-poster way. It’s inspirational in the deeply unglamorous sense of waking up and choosing not to disappear. The acoustic arrangement keeps things grounded, letting the lyrics do the heavy lifting.
“Terminal Velocity on Saturday” shifts gears slightly, offering a momentary release from that weight. This is the project’s breather track which works the best in its unabridged and instrumental form as the track is built around the idea of escape; not in a life-changing sense, but in the small, fleeting ways people cope. Pleasure, distraction, carelessness, the idea of letting the world blur just enough to feel human again. It’s lighter in tone, but not shallow. The song understands that temporary escapes aren’t solutions, but they can still be necessary. It feels like a knowing shrug rather than a denial.
Then there’s “Corporate America,” which is easily the most outwardly energetic track on the EP. It’s a sharp, satirical jab at the glorification of Western ideals and the American Dream™, complete with its hollow promises and shiny packaging. What makes it work is that Davies doesn’t overplay the satire. The song doesn’t scream; it smirks. The acoustic setup keeps it from turning into a rant, and instead it comes across as weary, ironic, and a little bitter in a way that feels earned. It’s the sound of someone who has seen the machinery up close and isn’t impressed anymore.
“The Insomniac” closes the project by drifting back inward. This track feels the most ethereal and vulnerable, echoing Davies’ earlier work and leaning into a kind of late-night, half-awake honesty. There’s a sense of isolation here that doesn’t need to be explained; it just exists. The song floats rather than resolves, which feels intentional. Insomnia isn’t something you conquer. Rather, it’s something you endure. Ending the project here feels right, leaving the listener suspended rather than comforted.
Taken as a whole, The Definition of Insanity, A Commodity, A Human Being is a thoughtfully constructed release that reinforces Gwynn Davies’ identity as an artist who values emotional truth over accessibility. These songs don’t rush you. They don’t hold your hand. They ask you to meet them where they are, fully present, and willing to sit with discomfort. That won’t be for everyone, and Davies seems completely fine with that.
This project isn’t trying to redefine acoustic music or reinvent the genre. Instead, it refines Davies’ voice and perspective, proving that quiet music can still be confrontational, and simplicity can still be heavy. The Definition of Insanity, A Commodity, A Human Being feels less like a collection of songs and more like a checkpoint; an artist taking stock of the world, himself, and the uneasy space in between. It’s not loud, but it lingers. And sometimes, that’s more unsettling than noise.
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About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for various publications around the world, the former lead writer of review blogspace Atop The Treehouse and content creator for Manila Bulletin.
