às vezes eu queria ser outra pessoa delivers a rare gem of unfiltered truth with “1997”

às vezes eu queria ser outra pessoa delivers a rare gem of unfiltered truth with “1997”, the latest single off his poignantly titled album Ser Adulto Sucks. Clocking in as a minimalist yet emotionally rich sonic confessional, “1997” is more than a song, it’s a whispered scream from someone stuck between timelines, aching to reverse life’s forward march.

Composed, recorded, produced, and promoted entirely by the artists themselves, “1997” stands tall as a fully independent creation, a DIY act of rebellion against the glossed-up world of mainstream music. What you hear is not just a track, but a soul laid bare: each synth swell, each lyrical line carefully sewn from lived experience, not marketing metrics. There’s an intimacy here that can’t be faked, a sense that the artist isn’t just singing to you, but with you, from the same place of confusion, restlessness, and yearning.

From its opening notes, “1997” paints a twilight-toned atmosphere, one that drapes around you like the fog of memory. The production leans into restraint, letting silence breathe between sounds, a decision that amplifies its emotional weight. There's an echo of the past here, not in a retro sense, but in a personal one: the desire to flee not to a place, but to a time before identity felt like a burden.

 “1997” is a tender gut punch. Written from the perspective of someone who has always felt out of place, it taps into that universally painful, yet often unspoken, wish to not just escape but to never have started. The year “1997” becomes more than a title; it’s a symbol of pre-existence, of longing for a clean slate, untouched by the chaos of adulthood. And when the artist, now 26, confesses that this feeling of displacement hasn’t faded, the heartbreak is palpable. The vulnerability isn’t performative, it’s a documentary.

Yet despite its melancholy, there’s a quiet power in “1997”. It’s a song for anyone who’s ever stood still while the world kept moving, for those who feel like guests in their own lives. And in sharing that deeply personal isolation, às vezes eu queria ser outra pessoa offers listeners something rare: the comfort of being seen.

What elevates this release even further is its uncompromising authenticity. In a music landscape dominated by commercial strategy, “1997” is a statement of full artistic ownership. The track doesn't chase trends, it stands in quiet defiance of them. It’s the kind of release that reminds you why music matters in the first place: to make sense of the mess, even if the answers never come. “1997” is for the misfits, the drifters, the nostalgic souls staring out bus windows wondering what could’ve been. It's raw. It's honest. It's unforgettable.