There’s a moment that seems to be happening more and more lately.
You pick up your phone to look for something specific, and before long you’re somewhere else entirely. A different idea. A different thought. A different direction. You get what you were looking for, but not quite in the way you expected.
And most of the time, you don’t question it.
That was one of the starting points for Software Baby.
Not in a dramatic sense. Not as a big statement about technology. Just a quiet observation about how normal it’s all become.
We rely on software for almost everything now. Information, communication, entertainment, connection. It’s all there, sitting behind a screen, ready the moment we ask for it. On the surface, it feels like complete freedom. Anything you want. Anything you need.
But at some point, you start to notice that the experience isn’t completely neutral.
Some things are easy to find. Some things take a little longer. Some things don’t seem to show up at all.
And you don’t always know why.
The Line That Anchored the Song
“They’re watching you.”
It’s a simple line, but it kept coming back while writing this.
Not as a warning. Not as a conspiracy. Just as a presence.
Because in a lot of ways, it’s true. Every search, every click, every keystroke feeds into something. Patterns form. Preferences get mapped. Behaviour becomes predictable.
Again, none of that feels unusual anymore. It’s just part of using the tools.
But when you step back from it, even briefly, it raises a question:
How much of what we see is chosen… and how much is decided for us?
Received, Denied, Destroyed
One of the ideas that found its way into the song was the shifting nature of information.
At first, everything feels open. You ask, and the answer comes straight back.
Then there are moments where something is harder to find. Slower to appear. Slightly out of reach.
And then there are things that seem to vanish altogether.
Whether that’s intentional or just part of how systems work isn’t really the point. The experience is the same.
It creates a strange dynamic where access feels unlimited, but isn’t entirely in your hands.
Not the Future. Just Now.
It would be easy to frame all of this as something futuristic, but it doesn’t really feel that way.
This is already the environment we’re living in.
The systems aren’t separate from us. They sit right in the middle of everyday life. We use them constantly, and in doing so, we become part of how they function.
That’s where Software Baby sits.
Not predicting anything. Not warning about anything. Just noticing what’s already there.
Why “Software Baby”?
The title has a slightly strange feel to it, and that’s intentional.
There’s something almost comforting about it on the surface. Familiar. Harmless. Like something we’ve created and grown comfortable with.
But underneath that, there’s another layer.
Something we depend on. Something we trust. Something we don’t fully understand.
And something that, quietly, shapes the way we move through the world.
The Song
Musically, the track leans into repetition rather than release.
The central idea doesn’t resolve. It circles. It returns. It stays present.
That felt like the right approach, because the experience it’s describing doesn’t really switch off. It’s always there in the background, whether you’re paying attention to it or not.
Out Now
Software Baby is available now.
Listen to it, sit with it, and take from it whatever feels true to you.
There’s no single interpretation. Just a moment, observed from one angle.