On their single “Backseat Devil,” American Duo The One Eighties create a song that vibes like a twilight drive through memories you can never fully escape. Terrifically stripped compared to the worse-for-wear, gleaming debut Minefields, this single closes in on the dark beauty of their Americana roots — cloaked in light echoes of Appalachian soul and a highway-country grit. It’s the kind of song in which every note is imbued with intent, from the mournful twang of pedal steel to the ethereal cello that glides through the track like an uncertain ghost.

Vocally, there’s a subdued fatigue that rings true — a quiet mixture of guilt and determination to keep going that reflects the song’s theme of enduring guilt. The lyricism, contemplative but never overbearing, reads like a journal entry penned on a dingy motel desk. The understated percussion of Fred Eltringham and the mournful pedal steel of Whit Wright take important parts, anchoring the song’s rhythmic pulse and emotional weight.

There’s a wistful restraint here that never dips into melodrama, even when the song’s arrangement hints at the grandeur of roots rock. Harmonies by Maigan Kennedy lend a diaphanous quality, smoothing the harsher contours of regret with a delicate feeling of hope. It’s one that stays with you long after the last note, like the unresolved feelings it examines.

“Backseat Devil” showcases The One Eighties’ talent for reducing all things to their core, stripping everything down to raw feeling and true artistry. It’s beautifully sentence-y, soil-seeking, and impossible to shake.

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