BARCELONA, SPAIN (Top40 Charts) Scott Allyn and Mark Doyle have been making music together since 2000 - forging a partnership and a true musical brotherhood. Based in Barcelona and Syracuse, this duo works tirelessly to craft their precise indie-folk-rock style, allowing sophisticated composition, rich instrumentation, and thoughtful conceptualization to shape each track. Fans have come to expect sharp and resonant lyricism - transforming turns of phrase into hyper-specific yet deeply relatable narratives, delivered with compelling gravitas and bold authenticity. Across three seven albums, Forgottensong has never shied away from the nitty gritty, the unvarnished parts of life that shape the human experience. Often with a critical eye, they pose indelicate questions and examine the current ways of existence, exploring the complexities of everything from religion, to love, to societal failure. Their music doesn't just reflect the world - it interrogates it. And in doing so, they leave behind a catalog of fiercely unforgettable songs that linger in the mind and the soul.
At first listen, "Shirts and Skins" feels like a stark departure from Forgottensong's status quo—a raw, stripped-down contrast to their usual elaborate, meticulously produced sound. Paying closer attention, its essence is unmistakably theirs: conscious, restrained, and expressive. Only this time, the foundation is intentionally laid bare—just a steady drum beat, mellow guitar, and Scott's emotion-saturated vocals carry the song's atmosphere of tension, frustration, and disconnection. It's a tale of polarization—whether between a pair of lovers or an entire society is up to the listener.
The lyrics unravel like a diary entry or a loose thread of inner pleas that never quite makes it to the other person. Regardless, vulnerability pulses through every note: an admission of fatigue and a confession of doubt. Despite the narrator's deep longing for reconciliation, haunting, ethereal harmonies conjure the feeling of standing at an impasse, with no way forward or back. And then—the final blow—a searing electric guitar solo that lingers like the chilly realization that something crucial has shifted, or rather, collapsed—never to be restored.
Scott's self-produced music video mirrors the stripped-back nature of the song itself—don't expect intricate choreography or actors unfolding a cryptic narrative. It's simply Scott and his guitar, voicing his thoughts to an empty room as if the walls might absorb some of his anguish. The black-and-white visuals emphasize the gravity of the situation—Scott is stuck in a world drained of warmth and certainty. Yet, subtle visual effects sneak in—fleeting bursts of light, abrupt color shifts—hinting at the fragile presence of hope, a flicker of something worth holding on to. The raw, unpolished aesthetic only amplifies the discomfort; its jagged, almost disorienting visual effects reflect the narrator's inner turmoil. He's battling someone he's meant to love, locked in a conflict that has left him worn and weary. The exhaustion is palpable—frankly, he's tired of "keepin' score and countin' sins"—longing to wave his white flag in the name of love. But not all wounds are so easily mended. The video leaves viewers with an unsettling realization: this game of "shirts and skins" has no winner.
