Infinity Song’s new single, “London Foxes,” doesn’t shout its intentions. It purrs, glides, and insinuates. Built on precision and restraint rather than grandiosity, it’s a song that turns minimalism into magnetism—a soft-rock reverie that disguises its ambition under impeccably controlled harmonies and a groove that feels deceptively simple.
The track, produced by band member Israel Boyd (who also delivers lead vocals), walks a line between playfulness and control, whimsy and resolve. It opens with a hypnotic guitar riff—circular, laconic, almost conversational. Before long, it blooms into a chorus that’s impossible to resist: “C-C-C-Callin’,” they chant, voices layered in airtight familial harmony. There’s no excess here. Each element is placed with care, as if overstatement would somehow betray the band’s ethos.
Infinity Song has long operated on the outer edges of the mainstream, crafting a sound that draws equally from gospel, jazz, soul, and soft rock—without fully pledging allegiance to any of them. “London Foxes” deepens that aesthetic. The structure is deliberately lean, its lyricism built on metaphor and motion: city dogs barking, cats clawing, but it’s the foxes—free, elusive, seductive—that call the narrator toward reinvention.
Thematically, it’s a song about leaving. But the departure isn’t dramatic—it’s deliberate. “No! I just can’t stay, I must be on my way,” Israel sings, brushing past entanglements and obligations with a sense of internal clarity. This is not a song about escape under duress. It’s about the quiet confidence of self-direction.
Infinity Song’s sound has always been tied to their origin story: homeschooled musicians raised in a tightly knit family collective, busking and harmonizing across New York City’s streets and public spaces. They bring that intimacy with them into the studio, where their voices entwine not just with technical precision, but a shared emotional lexicon. Their harmonies on “London Foxes” are clean, confident, and controlled—more akin to the architectural elegance of The Carpenters or Fleetwood Mac than the unhinged vulnerability of most modern pop.
Still, for all its polish, “London Foxes” doesn’t feel sanitized. It plays with dynamics subtly, letting the song’s urgency live not in the volume or density, but in the propulsion of its groove and the yearning in its lyric. The bridge offers a brief pivot: “This wild horse, it will not let off,” Israel sings, as the track momentarily threatens to unravel. But even then, Infinity Song never loses grip. The reins remain taut.
The outro offers the only hint of exposed emotion—“I can never stay too long from you when you want me”—pulling back the curtain just enough to suggest that all this forward motion might also mask a tender ache. It’s a reminder that departure often coexists with longing.
Infinity Song is a band increasingly comfortable with subtlety, operating in a commercial landscape that often rewards spectacle. “London Foxes” affirms that their approach—measured, intentional, deeply musical—is not only viable, but increasingly necessary. This is not music that chases the zeitgeist. It invites it to catch up.
–John Parker
