If you’ve been tuning in to the Dallas music scene like I have, you’ll be familiar with the name Hafto. He’s a poet at the end of the day, but the way that he’s been merging the lines between poetry and music in the way that he has is something that you simply can’t deny. After a great deal of build-up and a good amount of hype, his new EP, “Heart Of Ice,” finally arrived in the world on the 12th of December. This release is more than just a series of beats; it’s the full expression of his skill. It’s the ethos of an artist that simply refuses to be bound to one path. It’s dark, it’s chilly, and it’s ridiculously, phenomenally honest. I’ve been listening to this album in-depth, and quite frankly, it’s a lot to take in and take in the best way possible. As a result, rather than simply giving you the lowdown on this album – or rather, the EP  I want to break it down in-depth. Let’s take these five tracks and see what the poet has in mind when he decides to freeze his world.

“Deny” kicks off the album. This song opens with an intro that isn’t in any particular hurry to introduce itself. It unwinds like a door left slightly ajar, allowing tension and the incredible electric guitar riff to trickle in. This is an introduction where restraint in terms of sound isn’t different from sound in terms of space. A particular quality of emptiness pervades when it dawns on you that it is indeed an escape from your own reflection. It isn’t loud, it isn’t bombastic. It purely slides away at its own pace. Hafto has been able to tap that particular frequency. This isn’t an album designed to play in the background, but something more like holding up a reflection of ourselves in a dark room while pointing out the areas of our own faces that we’ve been erasing for years. The song is the story of a character who has mastered the art of hiding from himself. Hafto takes apart the complicated, messy architecture of denial, treating it both as a haven and a prison cell. We’ve all been there, right? The point where you understand that the walls you built to shield yourself away from the hurt are now feeling like a cell to imprison yourself inside. This is a survival act, a coping mechanism to deflect the sharp hurts of reality, to keep yourself protected, but now it has a very hollowing effect, until you’re left as a mere echo of the kind of person you used to be. This is the thing: the song isn’t a sermon, it’s not a song saying, “Why can’t you just confront the truth?, Instead, it is so very, very empathetic. Hafto leans in close, speaking softly, saying, “Hey, I understand why you’re doing what you’re doing; There is a soulful, gut-level understanding of the why involved with denial. This song recognizes the “why,” realizing sometimes the only way to make sure your heart doesn’t shatter into a million pieces is to be a master liar, especially to yourself. The song is so very, very raw, feeling as though you’re recognized by a soul who does recognize you despite all the broken dreams and places, and does so without pointing a finger by saying, “Why can’t you just come clean and make everything right with yourself and everyone around you now?” If you’ve ever looked into your own mirror and seen a strange reflection staring back just to make it through the day, then this song will stay within your heart long after you’re finished with it. This song is a painful reminder that you’re definitely not as alone as you’re feeling. Musically, there is a very specific, very thin line between a singer who sounds vocal and a singer who is heard. This song places itself on a very, very delicate line somewhere between hearing and vocals. Music has a place within a song because it can’t just be said, and sometimes can’t even just be sung. This song takes a very delicate, very thin line, a very fine line, to make sure you understand exactly what it is saying as a song.

The Next Piece Is “False Gods”. Most of these tracks are going to try and draw you in; this one just pulls you under. There is this sense of weight in every opening. It doesn’t just begin; it arrives. It has a quality in itself that feels almost ritualistic, as if it’s just the start of something very old that you shouldn’t be listening in on. The key to all of this, of course, is in these synths. They aren’t that bright, poppy quality we are all so familiar with hearing on the radio; they are deep and rich and a little haunting. If this music is ritual, then these lyrics are just the sound of temple walls cracking. “False Gods” isn’t about being disillusioned. It’s a scathing indictment of the ultimate betrayal, the kind that comes when you realize that all of these things you’ve been worshiping are all just empty all along. Now, let’s take a heavy-ish look forward. All of us have “gods”. These are either people, ideologies, or simply what we see in a promised version of ourselves. Hafto isn’t simply speaking of disillusion here. He is making a noise in direct riposte to all worship in itself. There is this radical, even downright perilous, message that applies throughout all of it that we may, in fact, be better if we are alone. These are simply pedestal things in disguise. It’s a profoundly painful thing in itself to realize that all of these things we are so sure of are actually keeping us blind. By insisting that all of these “gods” are “false,” Hafto removes all of that luxury and is left standing in direct illumination. There is a point in this track where it transitions from “searching” to “settled,” and simply put, it’s crackling. The vocal delivery in particular just happens to be so starkly different, so squarely on message. It ceases being a performance; simply, this track seems bent on toppling all of these statues that once received its worship. There is a quality in hearing it that you can detect in hearing any voice. The vulnerability isn’t absent but simply has been beset by this newly “muck enough” attitude. The key here is that this simply happens in exact opposition to all that happens in instrumentation.

Number three, we have “The Price”. The introduction of this song, as an introduction, is nothing short of cinematic. It doesn’t play, it creeps in. The song begins with this dark, but in a weird way, ethereal quality to it. Sounds that feel as though they are floating through the fog. It’s chilling, but before you get to fully settle into this kind of ghostly quality, the pulsating beat ends up kicking in. That’s the heartbeat of this song. It’s strong, pulsating, and even a little dangerous. The perfect harbinger of what’s to come, like a countdown to this kind of poetic performance that’s about to go down. By the time the vocals kick in, the set has already been perfectly established. The juxtaposition of this kind of airy, “ethereal” quality within the opening melody, juxtaposed with this hard, pulsating beat, creates this kind of tension that’s simply perfect, pulling you right into the middle of this song. It’s building this vibe before you’ve even had the first word of this song presented to you, wrapped in this kind of package that’s all but impossible to resist. It’s an introduction to something greater than itself, something greater than this world. In this world, which has experienced so many songs that are meant to excuse our own bad behavior, our trauma, this song goes in hard, in kind, in terms of going in exactly the opposite way of justification, of explanation, instead landing right in this kind of direct, honest, hard-hitting, right-in-your-face kind of way, one question that’s been posed, one question that’s been echoed through to you, right in your face: ‘was it worth it?’. It’s the weight of having to live with yourself after the dust settles. You made the decision, the choice, and now you have to live in the body of the person who made that choice. It’s an intimidating look at the “cost of doing business” with yourself. But by the time the beat drops, you’re not concerned about the song; you’re concerned with yourself.

The fourth track is titled “Heart of Ice.” The introduction of this track is an absolute mood-setter. It begins with this icy piano melody, which has the effect of being so clean, so cold, so alone, it’s almost as if you are chilled to the bone in the room, the windows left open. No, it’s almost fragile, almost crystalline. And then, just as you can absorb yourself in this cold, lonely atmosphere, there is this thrust, this heartbeat. A punchy synth-pop beat swings into the picture, and the song isn’t just an expression of sorrow; it’s life. The transition from this “frozen” piano stuff to the rhythmic heartbeat of the synth instrument isn’t the least bit awkward. It creates a perfect transition between the reflective parts and the party ones. To operationalize heartbreak as an art form isn’t an easy thing, nor is it as easy to operationalize transformation. Specifically for Hafto, his recently launched project, ‘A Heart of Ice,’ wasn’t just a project; it was a survival strategy. This project emerged from one of those whirlwind periods where all the things that you believe about loyalty, about responsibilities, about your own reflection, begin to go under the rug. We all familiarize ourselves with the moment where you establish that the warmth you have isn’t getting back to you. You always begin by showcasing a soft heart, only to realize that this soft heart thing has become an invitation to be taken advantage of. He says further: “I was grappling with the struggle between wanting to stay soft and realizing that softness was being leveraged or taken advantage of,”. This struggle between wanting to be soft and wanting to safeguard your own sanity is the literal backbone of this EP. Of course, it is a record that does not merely explore a breakup. Rather, it chronicles a process that is happening live. As Hafto draws from a shattered quality that sprouted because of friendships that self-destructed with nothing more than a nod and a backwards look, it draws upon a pain that wounds far more acutely than she could have ever supposed. Indeed, it is a process that represents a world-viewing act that finds a “global coldness” taking hold of a world that is dark and properly guarded with a sarcastically cynical tone: a world that finds itself merely trying to move ahead, regardless of the toll that may take upon the person standing alongside it. Specifically, you can hear that being taking place. The deep level upon which the deep is merely a ‘cavernous’ metaphor that is both ‘icy and crystalline,’ that deep level that is properly a ‘distance’ away? Indeed, that is more than “production work.” Rather, that is a sound that reflects a distance that is well beyond merely a ‘sound,’   a sound that looks upon the world with a proper clarity that finds individuals properly standing off, going cold, and merely observing people for what they are. By philosophy, a Heart of Ice is based upon a properly grim reality. Rather, the truth is that pain happens either through ice or through fire. Rather than choose to look down upon what is properly a ‘bad’ emotion, he opts instead to take a jumpstart directly into what it truly means to be a person that chooses to be based strictly upon ‘vengeance,’ ‘detachment,’ along with ‘resumption,’ because it is merely a truth that it truly shapes us either way. This is not a record concerning choosing not to care or giving up. Rather, it is a record that seeks a truth: that if you choose not to look upon what it truly does mean or seek a world upon suffering that finds itself merely watching upon what it does mean, you end up seeing a reality that maintains nothing more than a truth. Indeed, it is a truth that seeks a reality that properly maintains that you have, to find that you have forged a ‘fire’ that properly beats inside.

“PSFC” is the name of the last song. Honestly, the way it has constructed its base is pure genius. There is no typical synth start or strumming of the guitars. Instead, it begins with this choice of ethereal “mouth percussion.” “Mouth percussion” is this bizarre and mysterious sound that borders upon this wave of respiratory beats or is the beginning of this vocal ritual in an active cathedral. There is this feeling that you are right in the middle of a vocal circle. But before you get that, you take a fall. But then a thumping beat kicks in, and this airy vocal energy is grounded in some visceral reality. It’s exactly the right “wake up” point. The whole thing is seamless, slipping from that haunted, breathy space to that thumping, physical beat at exactly the right point to kick off the performance. But after everything that’s happened in this EP, after all that’s being expressed in this song itself, denial, bitter disillusionment, sacrifice’s hard price, and that defensive stance taken to avoid being wounded in love’s ending at last brings us to acceptance. But let’s get down to brass tacks here. This is no acceptance of defeat. This is the acceptance of truth. Hafto brings off landing the plane in a manner that’s frankly very earthed. The song ceases fighting reality and simply asserts to it in a way that’s hard and hardily resolute. And it asserts a message that’s all too rarely heard in popular music—the utter need for integrity. It’s speaking to acceptance of the fact that while the world may grow cold and all those around you may neglect to protect your warmth in a world that’s too easily inimical to that warmth, nevertheless, your truth is something that simply cannot and simply must not be abandoned. There’s already an awful lot of relief in that truth, and no doubt some sadness too that’s inevitably bound up in it. We certainly have reason to be grateful to Hafto for being brave enough to give us this particular song that ends the EP.

When you press play with “Heart of Ice,” what you’re doing is so much more than beginning an EP; it’s an immersion into an atmosphere of pure emotional authenticity and resiliency. Hafto has made something that is at once monumental and minute, so graciously encompassing the world of high-level personal evolution as it simultaneously refuses to look away from the darker recesses of the human experience the callousness and emptiness of emotional numbing itself, and every bit of it with an unflinching eye. Hafto brings us with him into the intimate realm with pieces like “Deny” and “The Price” here, offering these up not simply as songs but as chapters within an act of personal self-clarification, self-acknowledgement, and subsequent self-acknowledgement of growth. And beneath it all, the ghostly presences of his influences are palpable, the dark atmospheric textures of The Weeknd, and the attractive attributes of Tony Fisher mixed into it. Honestly, I’m obsessed with this album. It’s not often you find someone so eager to be “unlikable,” “cold,” or anything of the like in the pursuit of the truth. Heart of Ice is honestly a masterclass in self-discovery, and if this album is merely the beginning of what Hafto has in store for us, we are all in for something legendary. I’ve had this on repeat since its release, and honestly, I’m so stoked to see what the future holds for him. ‘

Stream  the “Heart of Ice’ EP on Spotify

Follow Hafto here and his socials: X, Instagram, YouTube