Shadowbox

Listening to Shadowbox feels like stepping inside Mavi’s head—where he’s stuck in the dark, fighting demons he can’t see. Those demons are addiction, pain, guilt. This album is a reflection of his mental state: cold, eerie, and heavy—but with moments of light that don’t last long.

On Latch, the beat feels bright, almost happy. It shows what he feels like when he’s high—floating, at peace. But that peace fades quickly. On Broken, he crashes into pain again.

“I want to see you happy, but how you happy with another guy?”

It’s emotional. He’s talking about heartbreak—the kind that sticks with you and becomes part of your pain.

In I’m So Tired, he opens with:

 “Today my grandmother turned 80 / I’m three Percocets, I ain’t even ate yet.” 

It’s raw. He’s asking God to help him—to take away the guilt, the sadness, the weight. He knows he could’ve made better choices, and now he’s dealing with what those choices cost him.

On Drunk Prayer, he drinks to forget. He asks God to put his pain in the cup instead. It’s a quiet cry for help, but not in a way that feels fake or dramatic. He’s just being real with himself.

It's a dark world that Mavi lives in, However there is glimpses of hope, Maybe, Only maybe he have a chance of finding his way out of the shadow realm, maybe he can put aside all the addiction and furthermore all the pain that is burdening him, his involvement with drugs since such a young age makes him venerable to what he calls a sink hole. he is the betrayed and the betrayer through the album.

What makes this LP special is how honest it is. Mavi isn’t blaming anyone else. He’s pointing the finger at himself. He’s not asking for sympathy—he’s just telling the truth. And that truth hits hard.

Shadowbox is a powerful album. It’s not about perfection—it’s about pain, honesty, and the fight to feel something real.