Love anchors and elevates—but what happens when its weight becomes too much to bear? In “Chained,” the new single by Alwyn Morrison, devotion is not a comfort but a crucible. With soaring urgency and quiet introspection, Morrison examines the thin line between loyalty and longing, capturing the emotional cost of sacrificing yourself for someone else.
The track blends the grit of alt-rock with pop’s melodic punch, echoing the angst of The Cure and the soul of early Oasis. Morrison’s voice carries both resolve and weariness, moving between vulnerability and defiance. The production, handled by Michael Carey—known for his work with Escape The Fate and Pablo Alborán—keeps the sound raw but cinematic. Longtime collaborator Michael Ales, who co-wrote the track, builds on Morrison’s lyrical restraint with layered instrumentation that rises and recedes like emotional tide.
“Love can be beautiful, but it can also make you feel invisible,” Morrison says. “Chained is about that struggle—when you’re trying to be there for someone but slowly disappearing yourself.”
Though rooted in his personal experience caring for a partner battling depression, Chained reaches beyond autobiography. Morrison leaves enough space in the song for listeners to bring their own histories to it. Whether the burden is romantic, familial, or platonic, Chained speaks to anyone who’s given more than they had to give.
There’s a distinct texture to Morrison’s songwriting that sets him apart from his contemporaries. Before stepping into the spotlight, he spent years behind the scenes—first as a journalist covering artists like the Scissor Sisters and Rita Ora, then as a collaborator with a wide range of musicians. That background sharpened his storytelling. His songs feel lived-in, unafraid to expose the mess and grace in ordinary intimacy.
Chained doesn’t ask for pity. It doesn’t offer neat resolutions. It sits in the ambiguity of love’s most difficult questions. Can you lose yourself in loyalty? Can commitment become a cage? And is there freedom in finally letting go?
Alwyn Morrison doesn’t offer easy answers. He offers something more lasting: the courage to ask. And with Chained, he delivers a song that lingers—not because it shouts, but because it refuses to let go.
