Some nights, the smallest room can feel enormous. Everyone else seems asleep, the phone stays untouched, and an ordinary thought becomes something impossible to put down. Awake & Dreaming build their latest single around that familiar, uncomfortable hour. Released on September 18, 2026, Underwater approaches depression through the private conversation that happens when distraction runs out. The Waterloo, Ontario band trade outward force for closeness, letting piano, textured guitar and an intimate vocal carry the weight. Its appeal lies in that decision to stay beside a difficult feeling long enough to give it shape.
The fifth single from their debut album, Inevitable, introduces a quieter side of a four-piece whose preceding release, Cold Shoulder, leaned into the communal energy of a riot chant. That shift matters. Bands can become attached to whichever gesture makes the biggest impression, especially while building an audience. Here, Awake & Dreaming leave room for a different kind of connection. Underwater offers a place for listeners who recognise the exhaustion behind an outwardly functional day, particularly when the evening finally catches up with them.
Sasha Kristoff’s voice sits close to the piano, making the arrangement well suited to the song’s late-night setting. Guitar and drums provide texture underneath, while the music avoids a dramatic drop. There is something persuasive about that restraint. A song dealing with emotional overwhelm does not automatically need to overwhelm its audience in return. Giving the vocal room allows the personal stakes to remain central, while the surrounding instruments suggest the movement of water. The arrangement supports a feeling of suspension, with enough motion to keep stillness from becoming stagnation.
The image at its centre is a whale, immense yet isolated, floating too deep underwater and calling out without being understood. It is a striking choice because it makes loneliness feel larger than the person experiencing it. The creature has presence, power and a voice, yet none of those things guarantees connection. That contradiction gives the song an emotional foothold. Feeling invisible does not mean having nothing to offer. Sometimes it means being caught somewhere that makes communication difficult, trying to reach others through a distance they cannot see.
The songwriting brings that distance back into the body. As the internal conversation develops, there is permission to occupy space, slow down and return to a sense of physical presence. These gestures give the subject some everyday grounding. Anyone who has spent a sleepless hour arguing with their thoughts will recognise how hard even basic kindness towards oneself can become. Underwater makes room for that struggle without presenting a tidy recovery story. Its concern is the immediate moment: what can be released, what still hurts, and how to remain present while both are true.
Written by Kristoff and Stefan Schneider, the single also benefits from leaving its central decision unresolved. The possibility of letting go sits beside the possibility of being consumed, and the song does not decide on the listener’s behalf. That openness is important to its credibility. Encouragement can feel strangely distant when it arrives too quickly, before the difficulty has been acknowledged. Awake & Dreaming allow uncertainty to stay in the room. The result is a more believable form of reassurance, one that recognises how little a person may know about their next step.
The final stretch is especially telling. For more than a minute, the lyrics fall away and piano, guitar and drums carry the piece to its conclusion. Within a running time of three minutes and forty-eight seconds, that is substantial space to surrender to the instruments. It lets the listener remain with whatever the words have stirred up. This is also where the decision to avoid a drop becomes meaningful: the song’s movement continues without a sudden release that might make everything feel settled. The ending gives reflection its own duration, allowing thought to outlast speech.
Kristoff, who handles vocals and piano, is joined by Schneider on guitar and synth, Phil Lee on bass, and Ryan Dugal on drums. Their name has a personal foundation in Kristoff’s experience of living with Type 2 Narcolepsy, where waking and dreaming can coexist in unexpected ways. That background helps explain the group’s interest in conflicting states. On Underwater, fragility and resolve share the same space. Neither cancels the other out. The band’s identity feels most convincing when that idea becomes part of the songwriting rather than simply a description attached to it.
The production credits bring considerable experience, with the band producing, Jay Dufour mixing and João Carvalho mastering. More interesting than the names, though, is the purpose they serve here: preserving a song whose character depends on closeness and patience. Underwater arrives in the same mix that will appear on Inevitable, due October 16. Positioned directly after Cold Shoulder, it should give the album a revealing change of scale. The public outburst gives way to the private aftermath, showing how much can remain unresolved once the loudest moment has passed.
With Underwater, Awake & Dreaming give their developing catalogue a valuable point of quiet. The single has a clear emotional setting, an evocative central image and an arrangement willing to leave breathing room around both. Its strongest quality is patience. It recognises that a difficult night can contain fear, self-doubt and a small attempt at tenderness all at once. For listeners drawn to songs that accompany uncertainty, this is a thoughtful introduction. Sometimes staying afloat begins with allowing yourself to take up space.
