FOGCHILD’S FUTURE REPUBLICAN PRESIDENT IS A HAUNTING, GENRE-BENDING DEBUT THAT DARES YOU TO FEEL
Immersive and emotionally charged, Future Republican President marks a bold debut from Fogchild, the solo project of Jae Grumulaitis. Drawing deeply from her experience growing up in an evangelical environment as a trans woman, the EP weaves a vivid sonic narrative—one that feels both deeply personal and universally haunting.
The release drifts effortlessly between ambient textures, layered guitar work, and ethereal vocal manipulations, blending lush melodies with unexpected samples and tonal left turns. It's a body of work that thrives on contrast: serene yet disorienting, soft yet confrontational. Grumulaitis isn’t afraid to experiment, pushing the boundaries of genre with fearless creativity.
From meditative calm to beautifully jarring dissonance, Future Republican President is a striking and thoughtful debut—an atmospheric exploration of identity, memory, and emotional dissonance that lingers long after the final note fades. Let’s break it down:
The record opens with the track “water to wine,” a likely reference to the biblical story of Jesus. Drenched in reverb and unfolding at an unhurried pace, the song creates a hypnotic atmosphere that’s surprisingly captivating. The lyrics are difficult to decipher, but that almost feels intentional—inviting the listener to surrender to the mood and let the instrumentation lead the experience. As the track progresses, melancholic synths maintain their haunting presence, evoking a sense of introspection or unease, depending on the listener’s state of mind. Clocking in at nearly nine minutes, it feels tailor-made for the soundtrack of an eerie, slow-burning film.
“endless entropy” opens like the score to a slow-burning thriller—tense and foreboding. A sharp, alarm-like synth drives the track, a stark contrast to the opener. Though it doesn’t shift much over its ten-minute runtime, that stillness invites personal interpretation, making the track feel like your own internal soundtrack.
Track four, “blood of the lamb,” carries heavy spiritual weight—both sonically and symbolically. In Christian tradition, the phrase refers to the sacrificial blood of Jesus Christ, representing atonement, redemption, and the cleansing of sin. It also echoes the Old Testament ritual of lamb sacrifice, a gesture of purification and forgiveness. Placed after two darker, more ominous tracks, “Blood of the Lamb” feels like a turning point. Whether intentional or not, it seems to signify a search for light—an opening, a release, or perhaps a quiet plea for salvation. The darkness doesn’t disappear, but this track hints that redemption might just be on the horizon.
Photo Credit: Alec Ilstrup
“white as snow” opens with a striking spoken word passage: “They say the sex organ is the consciousness.” What follows is a blend of spiritual and political commentary, touching on topics like Washington’s disinterest in marriage and broader societal disconnects. It’s provocative, layered, and intentionally ambiguous. While the track appears to lean into themes of religious reverence—particularly toward Christianity—it’s not entirely clear what message it’s trying to land. At Get Some Magazine, we’re not in the business of pushing any particular belief system, so we’ll leave this one open to interpretation. Take from it what resonates… or doesn’t.
“as a deer” brings the album back into full musical focus, injecting a renewed sense of urgency and direction. The track momentarily flirts with a fluttering drum beat—an energizing pulse that quickly vanishes, making way for eerie synths and a thick layering of atmospheric effects. The result is a shadowy, tension-filled soundscape that feels both cinematic and unrelenting.A surge of Euro-inspired synths takes center stage, adding a bold creative flair that pushes the album into new sonic territory. While we wish the drums had stuck around to anchor the momentum, what remains is still a compelling, immersive experience. Sometimes unsettling, often intriguing—“As a Deer” refuses to play it safe.
‘the consituent hum of a thing that fades”closes the album with a cold, metallic edge—you can almost taste the grey in the air. Clocking in at just over three minutes, it’s a stark, unwelcoming soundscape that offers little warmth, instead inviting the listener to dig deep and confront whatever emotions might surface. Midway through, ghostly vocals—presumably from Fogchild—emerge and smear themselves across the icy instrumentals, adding an eerie human touch to an otherwise mechanical atmosphere. It’s a haunting, uneasy way to end the album—less a resolution, more a lingering question. A final note of ambient unease, wrapped in quiet tension and subtle angst.
Taken as a whole, Future Republican President isn’t here to soothe—it’s here to provoke. This album carves its own unsettling path through the murky intersection of sound, spirituality, and existential dread. Traditional structure is tossed aside in favor of mood, tension, and atmosphere, resulting in a collection that drifts more like a fever dream than a playlist—at once hypnotic, jarring, and deeply personal.
From the spiritual gravity of “blood of the lamb” to the mechanical unease of “the constituent hum of a thing that fades,” and the chaotic stasis of “endless entropy,” the record offers no clear answers. It thrives in ambiguity, encouraging reflection rather than resolution. This is music that doesn’t meet you halfway—you have to go to it, sit with it, and maybe even wrestle with it.
It’s not background noise. It’s a psychological mirror, an ambient descent, and a challenge to anyone expecting comfort. Press play only if you're ready to feel something.