Brighton’s underground has a habit of spitting out artists who don’t ask politely for space — they carve it out with a grin, a glare, or a guitar. Cello, the classically trained cellist turned post‑punk provocateur, arrives with exactly that energy on her debut single “Vitamins”, released on International Women’s Day 2026. It’s a date loaded with symbolism, but Cello isn’t here to offer empowerment platitudes. She’s here to poke the bruise.
“Vitamins” is a mantra for the over‑stretched and over‑expected — a wiry, hypnotic chant that spirals between humour and fury. Built on repetition that feels almost ritualistic, the track lists the invisible labour women are expected to perform with a smile: the domestic, the emotional, the aesthetic, the physical. “I’ll do my homework… I’ll be a good girl… I’ll do the housework…” The delivery is deadpan, but the tension underneath is volcanic.
What makes the track so compelling is its duality. On the surface, it’s playful — a sardonic eye-roll at wellness culture and the endless grind of self‑optimisation. But listen closer and the satire sharpens. The chorus, “Vitamins, vitamins, yeah yeah,” lands like a punchline and a plea at the same time. It’s the sound of someone trying to keep it together while the world keeps handing them another checklist.
Cello’s classical background hums beneath the chaos. Trained at the Junior Royal College of Music, she brings a sense of discipline and dramatic pacing to her minimalist post‑punk palette. There’s no ornamentation here — just control, tension, and the kind of silence that says as much as the noise. Every repetition feels intentional, like she’s daring you to sit with the discomfort rather than look away.
Releasing the track on International Women’s Day is less of a marketing flourish and more of a statement. “Vitamins” exposes the absurdity of the expectations placed on women — to self‑regulate, self‑improve, self‑correct, and self‑blame, all while maintaining the illusion of ease. It’s a song that laughs at the pressure, then bares its teeth.
If this is the opening chapter of her forthcoming album Kung Fu Disco, Cello is setting the tone early: confrontational, witty, and unafraid to make you squirm. “Vitamins” isn’t just a debut — it’s a warning shot. And it suggests that Cello isn’t here to fit neatly into anyone’s idea of what a “good girl” should sound like.
She’s here to rewrite the script entirely.
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