Dropics Wrestle With The Big Questions On Their Debut EP, ‘Lucked Out’

Gold Coast indie rockers Dropics have dropped their debut EP, Lucked Out, today (November 22). The five track record is a deep dive into all the “big questions” of life, looking into toxic relationships, guilt, depression, and more. Designed as a sort of catharsis for the band, Lucked Out is the perfect mix of introspect, humor, and chaos - exactly what we’ve come to expect from Dropics.

And, to celebrate its release, the members of Dropics - Madelyn Finster, Belle Harvey, Alana Li, Zak Howard, and Andy Hobart - are taking The Music through Lucked Out, track by track. 

Super Sonic Missile

Super Sonic Missile was the very first song we wrote as Dropics, and it holds a special place in our journey as a band. It all began with Andy, our drummer, who came up with the main guitar riff that set the tone for the whole track.

This song captures the frustration and bittersweet triumph of being that friend who speaks up when someone they care about is stuck in a toxic relationship. It’s about saying, “He’s no good for you, you deserve better,” and watching as they finally realise you were right all along.

Alana: “It started during a moment of frustration with my past relationship. I was venting, annoyed, and just mad at the whole situation. Ironically, we ended up finishing the song right after the breakup, and it became something raw, honest, and therapeutic.”

The lyrics reflect that raw emotion. Lines like “Wish you hadn’t let him in your head, Cupid had his chokehold, you’re already dead” hit hard with the imagery of someone who’s been manipulated and worn down. The biting post-chorus “I told you so” underscores the frustration of being ignored, while the cheeky “get it through with seven repetitions” in the verses adds a wry sense of humour.

The double chorus brings it all home with a sense of triumph and closure: “Finally got a clue” celebrates the realisation, while the blunt “never should have let him in between your legs” lands as the brutal honesty of a fed-up friend. 

In true Dropics fashion, Super Sonic Missile is equal parts catharsis and chaos—a burst of energy that’s unapologetic and full of attitude. It’s loud, honest, and guaranteed to make you yell along to “I told you so!” 

Are You There

Are You There is one of our most introspective songs—a mix of longing, uncertainty, and a quiet resolve to push forward despite the unknown. It’s about wrestling with the big questions we all ask ourselves: Will we keep this passion alive? Will we make it? Are we destined to repeat the same mistakes, or can we forge a new path?

The verses feel reflective and self-aware, especially with “Another face, a social craze, what can we do but pass the days” capturing the fleeting nature of trends and the struggle to find meaning in a world that often feels shallow. Yet, the repetition of “We won’t be there” suggests a refusal to dwell in the past or get stuck in that cycle.

The chorus ties it all together with an aching vulnerability: “Are you there, in my dreams, unaware, so it seems.” It feels like a direct conversation with our future selves—wondering if we’ll find the answers we’re searching for, or if those dreams will fade away like so many before them.

By the time the double chorus hits, the questions linger, unresolved, but there’s a sense of quiet defiance. This song isn’t just about fear—it’s about holding onto hope, even when the road ahead feels uncertain. It’s a question we’re still asking ourselves every time we play: Where are we going from here?

Overgrown

Alana: Overgrown is one of the most personal songs I’ve written for Dropics. It’s about facing the darkest parts of myself—battling depression and thoughts of suicide—and coming out on the other side. In the song, I’m speaking directly to those thoughts, almost as if they were another person. They took so much from me—my time, my happiness, and even pieces of my life that I can’t fully remember. But now, those thoughts are overgrown, like weeds in a garden I’ve stopped tending. I’ve let them go, and I’ve let them fly away.

The opening lines—“I fantasise of being weightless, something’s keeping me down”—capture that longing to escape, to just stop feeling so heavy. But even in those moments, something kept me tethered here, even if I didn’t fully understand what. The chorus brings this duality to life: “She took my heart, she took my heart and I don’t know why, it’s overgrown, I let it go, and I let it fly.” It’s about reclaiming my life. That “she” is the part of me that held onto the thoughts, but I’ve let her go. Verse two reflects on the chaos I felt during that time: “Everything is everywhere, I feel my time and my tears slipping away, and I don’t know what to spare.” It was overwhelming, like losing control, but writing this song was part of the process of making sense of it all—of letting it out and finding the strength to keep going.

I’ve also never really liked talking about this side of myself. It always felt a little cringe to me, to be honest. So, with Overgrown, I decided to disguise it a bit, almost turning it into a love song. The way I phrased things, the metaphor of giving my heart away—it’s all a bit of a shield, a way of expressing my struggle without directly confronting it head-on. I wanted to make it relatable, even though it’s about something so personal. It's my way of sharing a part of me without feeling completely exposed, but the message is still there if you listen closely.

Picture Frame

Alana: Picture Frame is another one of those deeply personal songs for me, though it’s wrapped up in a little bit of denial and humour. It’s about being the one always behind the camera, capturing the moments but never truly a part of them. I’m not in the picture, but I’m there—watching everything unfold from a distance.

The line “What I said is all untrue, I’ll be waiting here for you”—well, that’s a bit of a lie I told myself. I said I’d wait, but I know deep down I won’t. It’s that foolish hope we sometimes cling to, even when we know it’s not realistic. “Chasing after that shooting star, watching it unfold from afar” is pretty much me being sarcastic about the way we all romanticise things, especially when we’re feeling a little vulnerable. I’ve made wishes, but they never really seem to work out.

The bridge is where I try to call back a version of myself that existed before all the anxiety took over. I’m telling my old, carefree self to “come on back”, but I know it’s not that simple. Still, there's something hopeful in that plea.

And yeah, there’s a little nod to a “situationship” in here too, which... we don’t really talk about. It’s not the focus of the song, but those feelings definitely influenced the lyrics. I’ve never been great at dealing with situations like that, and this song is my way of processing it, even if it’s disguised as a song about unrequited love or waiting for someone who may never show up.

Also, can we talk about the bass solo? YAYAYAY—I absolutely love when the bass gets to shine, and it feels like the perfect way to break up the song. It’s like a moment of release for all the bottled-up frustration in the lyrics. It’s one of my favourite parts of the song, and honestly, I’m just really proud of how it turned out.

Red Stained Hand

Red Stained Hand captures the complexity of guilt that stems not from clear wrongdoing, but from the consequences of necessary choices. The song's lyrics beautifully illustrate this with lines that speak to the internal conflict and lingering remorse that accompany tough decisions.

The opening lines, "I rest my head on words unsaid, Bridges built upon sand," set the tone of regret and instability. The imagery of "shifting tides" reflects the constant, unavoidable changes in relationships, while "left alone in my bed" conveys the isolation that often follows emotional turmoil. The line "Now when I look down all I can see are red stained hands" emphasises the enduring weight of guilt, even when it’s not deserved. The image of "red stained hands" becomes a metaphor for the emotional scars that remain when you’ve made the tough, necessary call.

This sentiment evolves further with the assertion that peace was the “final demand,” not out of malice, but a plea for personal peace. The narrator reflects on having to “be the bigger man,” taking on the heavy responsibility of moving on despite the hurt and betrayal. The repeated question, "Why do I have to be the bigger man?" underscores the emotional exhaustion of constantly compromising one’s sense of self in order to appease others.

Ultimately, Red Stained Hand is a song about breaking free from situations, even if it means carrying the weight of guilt and misunderstanding. The lyrics demonstrate that sometimes, survival comes at the cost of emotional pain that, while undeserved, is a part of the process of healing and growth.

Oh, and the title? We have an inside joke about “Brown Stained Pants”, because apparently, poop jokes are timeless classics in the Dropics universe.

Dropics’ debut EP, ‘Lucked Out’, is out on all streaming platforms now.