Dan Devlin doesn’t whisper his emotions—he blasts them through a speaker, dresses them in glittery synths, and sends them spinning across a dance floor at 2 a.m. On his freshly released 3-track EP SCREAM, which dropped May 2, 2025, the London-based singer, songwriter, producer, and DJ channels chaos, clarity, and catharsis into a sonic trilogy that crackles with honesty and late-night defiance.
From the very first beat, SCREAM makes its mission clear: vulnerability is not weakness—it’s fuel. With a sound rooted in pop but smudged with the grit of real-life heartbreak, Dan Devlin manages to blend glossy hooks with jagged truth. The result? Music that feels like ripping off a bandage while dancing under strobe lights.
Opening track “Love Pill” is an electrified, euphoric dose of self-deception and temporary highs. With pulsing bass and a chorus that practically begs to be screamed from a convertible sunroof, the track is a bittersweet anthem for anyone who’s ever tried to medicate heartache with distraction. Whether it’s the tongue-in-cheek lyrics or the soaring vocal lines layered over shimmering production, “Love Pill” sets the tone for an EP that refuses to be subtle.
Next comes “Want Me Back,” a sleek, confrontational middle finger wrapped in a dance beat. It’s part kiss-off, part inner monologue—a track that captures that dangerous moment when self-worth finally outweighs the craving for reconciliation. Devlin’s vocal delivery rides the line between cool detachment and lingering ache, backed by a beat that moves like a confident strut down a rain-slick London street. It’s the kind of track that doesn’t just resonate—it empowers.
Closing out the EP is “Better Off,” a synth-laced gut punch that slows things down without losing intensity. If the first two tracks are the rage and revenge phases of heartbreak, “Better Off” is the clarity—the moment of realization that peace is louder than any argument. There’s a warmth to the production, a sense of space that lets Devlin’s voice breathe as he reflects, not with bitterness, but with resolution. That rawness is palpable—it’s a slow burn that lingers long after the final note.
What makes SCREAM truly magnetic is not just the songwriting, or the production (though both are razor-sharp). It’s Dan Devlin’s fearless approach to emotion. There’s no over-polishing here, no masking pain behind metaphors—this is heartache, rage, and healing, delivered with both polish and pulse. And remarkably, it all comes from a modest London flat. A self-producing force, Devlin handles the majority of his production himself, infusing every track with a homespun authenticity that shines through the studio sheen.
His background as a DJ also plays a critical role in his sound. These songs aren’t just made to be listened to—they’re built to move bodies, to live and breathe in the sweat and neon of a dancefloor. Whether headlining a club or spinning surprise sets across the UK, Devlin’s dual identity as both performer and producer gives him a unique edge. He knows what a crowd wants, but more importantly, he knows what a heart needs—and he builds his tracks to deliver both.
Beyond SCREAM, Dan is quickly establishing himself as one of the UK’s most intriguing multi-hyphenates, working with international collaborators and blending genres with fearless curiosity. But even as his circle widens, his music stays deeply personal. These tracks aren’t just about heartbreak—they’re about transformation, liberation, and reclaiming your voice after losing it.
In just three tracks, SCREAM cements Dan Devlin as an artist who doesn’t shy away from mess, emotional reckoning, or brutal self-reflection. Instead, he grabs those emotions by the throat, throws on a beat, and turns them into something that sounds a lot like freedom. Play it loud, drive fast, and scream along like no one’s listening.
