When Jeremy Zucker dropped love is not dying on April 17, 2020, the world was already quiet, already locked away. But Zucker’s debut solo album didn’t just fit the stillness but filled it. This wasn’t just an album about heartbreak or toxic love. It was a slow-burning unravelling of one person’s attempt to hold another person, and himself, together. It was codependency, forgiveness, grief, self-blame, and healing, all wrapped into 13 tracks that somehow feel both weightless and crushing.
Zucker, a New Jersey native, first teased the album to his Instagram followers in June 2019, and by January 2020, he announced its completion on Twitter. The rollout was a slow burn. Singles like “oh, mexico,” “always, i’ll care,” “not ur friend,” and “julia” dropped months apart, each offering a glimpse into the album’s emotional landscape.
“i’ve always thought a lot about what love is, and what it means to me. all of the different ways you can express and show love. promises made, and broken. how love can be the most beautiful, healthy thing in the world, or the most painful, devastating, toxic feeling.“
Jeremy Zucker, Reddit AMA
The album’s original working title—love, stars, & reasons we don’t keep in touch—hinted at a sprawling, cosmic meditation on connection and loss. But as Zucker himself said, the final title emerged from a “very specific life experience” that he’s only “vaguely alluded to in interviews.” It wasn’t a poetic metaphor or some artsy line meant to sound profound. It was literal. “If you love me, you won’t die,” Jeremy said. That’s it. That’s the core. The whole album lives in that one impossible plea.
“I was seeing this person that just had a lot of issues with substance abuse, and a lot of mental health issues… Basically what happened was, like a month into the relationship, she relapsed and it turned into like a really difficult toxic like dependency, like almost co-dependent relationship… I like literally just didn’t want her to die, and a lot of the music, and the title of the album is really just like, ‘if you love me, you won’t die.’ That’s where love is not dying comes from, it’s not about love is still alive, it’s like, love to me, is actually not dying, so don’t die, if you love me, if you say you love me. So, yeah.”
Jeremy Zucker, Zach Sang Show
This is not a love story. It’s what happens after the fairy tale fades. It’s about trying, failing, and still hoping anyway.
still
The album opens with “still,” an intro that sets the tone for what’s to come. It’s a soundscape built from the every day—birds chirping, a church choir, distant city life—recorded near Zucker’s Brooklyn apartment. Forty-one seconds of ambient quiet. It’s a soft inhale before the plunge. It also features a fading voice memo from when Jeremy got the idea for the title. Zucker explained, “The title came from something that someone said to me once. Everything was moving so fast and everything was so hectic, and this person was like, ‘I just wish we could be still,’ and that phrase really stuck with me.” And that’s exactly what this opener does. It makes you pause. Just be still.
we’re fucked, it’s fine
This is where the album kicks you in the chest. It’s not angry or desperate—it’s resigned. It’s about a love that’s weathered storms and grown dependent, for better or worse. There’s comfort in the small talk, but also an acceptance that things are unravelling. This is the sound of someone who knows it’s ending but stays anyway. “Hold me tight, I’m coming undone.” That’s the line that shatters everything. There’s acceptance here. Not of peace, but entropy. Jeremy said it best:
“The theme for that song is extremely apparent in the title: I know that everything’s going to go to shit, but I’m willing to accept that things are about to be horrible. That’s the tone for a lot of the album. Accepting the beauty in a moment, knowing that it’s not perfect. It is what it is, and it might fuck everything up.”
Jeremy Zucker, Genius Interview
The resignation in “Life would be quite boring without you/ I thought about it all last night” is devastatingly beautiful.
somebody loves you
Bright melodies mask a wistful longing in “somebody loves you.” Zucker is falling for someone he’s only known online, wrestling with the fear that reality might not live up to the fantasy. It’s love through a screen, the sweet torture of waiting for a text. He’s falling, but he doesn’t want to. The lyric “my philosophies are going under” hits like a punch. It’s him losing his grip on what he thought love should be. She makes him want to believe in something he thought wasn’t real. He admits, “That was one of the first songs that I wrote for the album. I wrote it while I was talking to this girl online for a long time before we actually met in person. It was this feeling of falling for someone when you know things could be completely different when you meet them in person.”
The song sounds cheery despite its sombre meaning. It is the sound of hope and anxiety colliding. The song’s style follows a similar chill, pop-rock vibe to the other tracks on love is not dying.
orchid
Devastation with petals. “orchid” is the sound of beautiful things dying. The relationship is almost over, and Zucker is left with nothing but memories and helplessness. The title alludes to the flower’s beauty and symbolism, but also its impotence. No matter how pretty, it can’t save what’s lost. The line “but it’s not cancer / we just wish it was” is dark, raw, and brutally honest. Jeremy explained:
“‘it’s not cancer; we just wish it was’ refers to the idea that having cancer would quite literally be more manageable than this specific personal struggle i’m talking about. it’s a bit of a dramatic / sad ironic ‘flex’. like this situation is so fucked up that having cancer would be easier.”
Jeremy Zucker, Reddit AMA
This is where the cracks start showing. There’s no fight left, only ache. He loves her, but it’s not enough. He’s just standing there, heart in pieces, still calling her beautiful. The song aches with the pain of loving someone you can’t save.
lakehouse
“lakehouse” is deceptively upbeat, masking the exhaustion of a relationship on the brink. Zucker is no longer invested, but the inertia of love keeps him tethered. He doesn’t want to go to the lakehouse. He doesn’t want to pretend. There’s a feeling of detachment, like he’s already halfway gone. And yet, there’s still love buried under the resentment.
The song is based on true events, written seven months after the fact. The lyrics detail the unwinding of a relationship, where small annoyances become insurmountable and love turns into an obligation. The explosive guitar and drums at the end mirror the emotional climax, and Zucker’s raw, almost tearful “fuck” signals the moment of surrender when you realize that letting go is the only way forward.
good for her
Short. Quiet. Crushing. At just over a minute, “good for her” is an interlude that lands with surprising force. It’s the comedown after the chaos of “lakehouse,” a quiet moment of melancholy. It’s defeat without drama. Just that hollow space where acceptance sets in. She’s better off. She found peace. And maybe that’s a good thing. Even if it kills him a little. Zucker explained:
“It’s the outro to ‘lakehouse,’ but I wanted to cut it into its own song because of how different the lyrical sentiment is. It comes off as a little melancholic because I’m left in the dust in this situation.”
Jeremy Zucker, Genius Interview
The song is about realizing that sometimes, no matter how much you care, you can’t be the right person for someone—and that’s okay. It’s a gentle acceptance that both people deserve happiness, even if it’s not together.
not ur friend
“not ur friend” is Zucker’s anthem of self-liberation. It’s Jeremy finally standing up for himself and cutting the cord. It’s the sound of someone saying “enough.” Not bitter—just done. With a catchy beat and blunt lyrics, he explores the freedom that comes from cutting toxic people out of your life. Zucker described it as, “the antithesis to the type of music that I make, because it’s very much like, ‘Fuck you, I’m out.’ It’s a selfish song, which, in its own way, is a really celebratory thing.”
The track is about reclaiming agency, refusing to be weighed down by someone who drains your energy. The song’s infectious rhythm and unapologetic message have resonated with fans, many of whom have found the courage to walk away from unhealthy relationships because of it.
full stop
What happens after “fuck you, I’m out”? This. “full stop” is an introspective track that feels like a spiral of doubt, regret and loneliness. There’s a snippet of “not ur friend” woven in, like a ghost of the past track. The song is a complex meditation on what happens after you remove someone toxic from your life. It’s a patchwork of thoughts and emotions, structured almost randomly but unified by Zucker’s vulnerability. The lyrics reveal his struggle to process trauma, loneliness, and the search for meaning.
“Will this solace in art fill the hole in my heart” is maybe the most honest line on the whole album. He’s throwing everything at the void—music, art, anything—to stop it from consuming him. The song touches on vivid dreams, self-doubt, and the difficulty of expressing expectations. He references philosophy (“if Plato couldn’t control love, how could I?”) and admits to feeling both numb and desperate for change. The track ends with a sense of peaceful resignation, as Zucker and his ex drift apart, lying in the setting sun which is a metaphor for closure and acceptance.
julia
Closure in motion. ‘julia’ is love remembered without bitterness. This song is the album’s emotional centrepiece—a song about closure, self-realization, and letting go. Zucker has said it’s his favourite song he’s ever released. The track is filled with nostalgia, contrasting memories of happiness with the darkness that follows loss. It begins with dreams that bring back moments he can never relive, and moves through the pain of unmet expectations and the longing for proper closure. He’s not angry—just sad. This song lives in the space between what was and what could’ve been. He wanted her to ask if the song was about her. She didn’t. He sings anyway. There’s beauty in that silence.
The chorus juxtaposes the warmth of love with the coldness of its absence, using imagery of the sun and moon, light and darkness. The song’s structure, with its evolving soundscape and candid microphone snippets, makes it feel like a private confession, a way for Zucker to finally release what’s been weighing on his heart. The imagery—shooting stars, shade, the dark sky—it’s all about letting go, gently. Like a soft sigh.
hell or flying
Zucker calls “hell or flying” one of his favourites on the album, and it’s easy to see why. It starts as a whisper and ends as a scream. Jeremy’s trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. The desperation builds with every line. He pleads, begs and offers unconditional support. But he knows. Deep down, he knows he can’t fix her. The track, my personal favourite from the album, is a raw exploration of hope, frustration, and the limits of what love can fix. It’s about watching someone you care about self-destruct, asking them to keep a promise you know they can’t. It’s a reminder that sometimes, loving someone means standing by them even when you can’t save them.
always, i’ll care
“always, i’ll care” is a soft, redemptive promise to a friend. Zucker wrote it for his college friend Jamie, as an apology for not always being present. He explained:
“She would always call me just to catch up and I would not answer her texts or call her back until days later, and I felt like a really shitty friend. And so it was this song of ‘I’ll be better than I was before, despite every text of yours ignored.’ She was so understanding, and I’m still sorry for not being as responsive or as attentive or not being a great friend, but I will do better. And that’s me showing how much I care.”
Jeremy Zucker, Genius Interview
The love here is quieter. Softer. A kind of love that doesn’t need to be loud to be real. He’s sorry. Not for loving, but for not loving well enough. It’s a promise to do better even if it’s too late. This one isn’t for a lover. It’s for a friend. And that somehow makes it even more painful. The gentle piano and soothing melodies make it a balm for anyone who’s ever felt like they weren’t enough, but still wants to do better.
brooks
This one is heavy. “brooks” is an introspective, spoken, and almost stream-of-consciousness track. Zucker lists the things weighing on him—heartbreak, loss, the death of a friend—and admits to feeling strange, disconnected, and in need of help. It’s a slow descent into everything he’s been avoiding. And Jeremy’s just trying to keep breathing through it all.
“‘brooks’ is very much a train-of-thought piece. There’s the obvious line, ‘This kid I knew in college just died on a plane.’ That’s true, and that was a crazy thing that happened to me and shook my world. And even in the song, that is just a detail. The song is just about feeling strange.”
Jeremy Zucker, Genius Interview
The song captures the numbness that comes with trauma, the shame of needing help, and the slow process of learning to feel again. It’s a quiet but powerful meditation on mental health and growth.
oh, mexico
And we end where we began, in limbo. He’s still not okay. But he’s getting there. “oh, mexico” isn’t about a place. It’s about escape. A state of mind. A place where the weight doesn’t crush you. A place he hasn’t found yet, but he’s trying. There’s hope here. Not loud or triumphant. Just quiet hope, whispered to himself.
“It felt like a really appropriate ending to the album, because it is this idea of falling into old habits and old patterns, and realizing that no matter how much you’ve experienced, we always still have things to learn. That’s a hard thing to accept.”
Jeremy Zucker, Genius Interview
The song is about the long journey toward healing, the desire to leave pain behind, and the acceptance that growth is ongoing. The gentle guitar and layered harmonies create a sense of surrender and hope, closing the album on a note of reflection and quiet optimism.
Final Thoughts
There’s a moment, after the final notes of “oh, mexico” fade, when the world feels quieter like the hush after a storm, when you’re left alone with your thoughts and the ache in your chest. love is not dying doesn’t end with a triumphant declaration or a neat resolution. Instead, it leaves you with the weight of everything that’s come before: the heartbreaks, the desperate pleas, the nights spent hoping someone you love will simply survive. It’s an album that never shies away from the messiness of loving someone who’s hurting, or from the guilt and helplessness that come with wanting to save them and knowing you can’t.
Zucker’s journey is one of loss, but also of relentless care. He traces the outlines of relationships that collapse under their own weight, friendships that slip through the cracks, and the haunting realization that sometimes, all you can do is promise to always care even when it’s not enough. There’s a raw honesty in every lyric, a trembling hope that somehow, through all the pain, love might be enough to keep someone alive.
But healing isn’t linear, and closure isn’t always clean. The album’s final moments don’t offer easy comfort. Instead, they linger in the bittersweet space between regret and acceptance, where growth means learning to carry your scars without letting them define you. Zucker doesn’t pretend that love can fix everything. He just asks, quietly, that it might be enough to keep us going.
If you’ve ever loved someone through darkness, if you’ve ever begged them to stay, if you’ve ever found yourself whispering promises into the void, this album is for you. It’s for the ones who hold on, even when their hands are shaking. It’s for those who know that sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is keep loving, even when it hurts.
Because in the end, what love is not dying teaches us is that love isn’t grand gestures or perfect endings. It’s about survival. Love is choosing, every day, to care, to keep reaching out, to keep believing that things can get better, even when the night feels endless. Love is holding on, not just for someone else, but for yourself.
Love is not dying.
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