CULTURE ›› MOSAIC SET
Mosaic Set: November 2025
Joshua Jacobs
Through Feverdreams, Joshua Jacobs explores the edges of emotion, turning fleeting moments and unspoken feelings into sound.
I’ve always chased the kind of sound that feels like a gut punch—honest, raw, and a little mysterious. The kind of song that finds you instead of the other way around.
When I write, I’m not chasing perfection. I’m chasing a feeling, something that stops time for a second.
I think that’s what pulled me toward songwriting in the first place. There’s a certain magic in hearing a line that cracks you open, or a chord that feels like it’s been waiting for you all along. Those are the moments I live for, the ones that make all the uncertainty worth it.
Feverdreams was built on that kind of honesty. Every song starts small. Whether it’s a lyric scribbled in the margins, or a melody that won’t leave me alone, it slowly becomes something bigger than me. I’m drawn to songs that feel cinematic in scope, but human in touch; the kind that carries emotion like electricity. Sometimes they’re fragile, sometimes loud, but always real.
I write a lot about the in-between spaces, where love fades but lingers, where hope meets doubt, where the familiar suddenly feels strange. Those are the moments that reveal who we are. To me, a good song doesn’t need to explain everything; it just needs to make you feel something for a second.
As a songwriter and more importantly as a human, I think a lot about the impermanence of things, how quickly moments slip through our hands. The loss of my father showed me that in droves and that sense of fragility shows up in the music. Even in the loudest songs, there’s always a ghost of something softer behind it. I like that tension—the push and pull between beauty and chaos, between what’s said and what’s left unsaid.
The songs keep changing, the sound keeps evolving, but the heart of it stays the same: connection. I chase that feeling like a drug—the one that makes people stop for a second and think, yeah, I know that feeling too.
The songs are a reminder that there’s something worth fighting for. Sometimes it’s just a single line, sung in the dark, that carries everything you were trying to say in a snapshot of time.
That’s what keeps me writing. That’s what keeps me chasing it. Because somewhere inside the noise, there’s still something worth finding and I want to be there when it shows up.