Afloat Isn’t Following the Map—They’re Cutting the Trail

It starts in a basement, like most good things. A bass, a guitar, and the kind of shared frustration that turns into a band almost by accident. That’s the root system of Afloat—Gabby Relos and Josh Rubeo, two Rowan University students in South Jersey who just wanted to make something that hit harder than a conversation ever could. Since 2018, they’ve been carving out their own lane in the DIY emo underground—slowly, stubbornly, and with purpose.

And here’s the thing: they’re really good at it.

Afloat doesn’t play like a band looking for approval. They’re not chasing a playlist spot or fitting into some preset mood board of indie nostalgia. Their sound is ragged and melodic, emotional but never precious. It’s built on the tension between catharsis and control—choruses that break open like a storm, vocals that ache but never whine, drums that mean it. You feel the years behind every part. There’s sweat in these songs. Doubt, too.

The band’s latest EP, Where I Stand, dropped in late 2023 and feels like a clean cut across the old skin. “Mouth Shut” is the big one—anthemic and pointed, with Gabby singing through clenched teeth about the pressure to swallow what you want to scream. You can feel the whole band tightening around that idea: Josh’s bass stalking under the surface, guitars shimmering just on the edge of collapse. It’s loud. It’s honest. It sticks with you.

That’s the throughline with Afloat. Since their self-titled EP in 2018, they’ve been evolving without overpolishing. That first release was rough in the best way—five tracks of slow-burn emo punk that sounded like it was recorded in the room next to you. Then Never Me; Always You in 2019 added a second guitarist and tightened the screws: a little more dynamic range, a little more heartbreak. You could tell they were writing with bigger feelings in mind.

After some lineup shifts, Gabby and Josh kept building. Each new release has sharpened their voice without sanding off what makes it hit in the first place. It’s not cleaner—just clearer. Like the band figured out how to scream without peaking the mic.

But what really sets Afloat apart isn’t just the music—it’s the way they move through the scene. They don’t just play shows, they build spaces. Gabby co-runs the Head Above Water Collective, a DIY label and show organizer that uplifts South Jersey and Philly emo bands, giving younger acts a shot and older ones a reason to keep going. In 2025, the collective released its first original track—Afloat’s own “Special.” It’s the most direct distillation of what they’re about: community, self-reliance, and songs that leave a bruise.

And people are starting to pay attention. WXPN’s Vinyl at Heart blog premiered “Mouth Shut” and praised the band’s “fierce attitude.” Sites like Doors at Seven and Swim Into the Sound have covered them with admiration that feels earned. There’s no PR machine behind this. It’s all word of mouth, friends of friends, and that one track you heard at 1am that made you sit up and ask, “Who is this?”

There’s something sacred about a band that does things on their own terms. Afloat isn’t trying to sound like anybody else, but if you need reference points: think Tigers Jaw without the cynicism, early Movements with more light, or Free Throw if they stopped pretending not to care. There’s real heart here. Real anger, too. But it’s wielded carefully—like they know it matters what you do with it.

Their songs are growing bigger. The mix is tighter. Gabby and Josh are sharper than ever, and the band’s output feels more locked in than it ever has. But the soul of Afloat is still what it’s always been: a refusal to shut up, to shrink down, to fade out. They’re here. They’re loud. And they’ve got something worth saying. For live shows, they’re joined by guitarist Alec Sye and drummer Andrew Lafay—fleshing out the sound without diluting what makes it theirs. It’s still very much Gabby and Josh’s voice at the core, just turned up louder in the room.

One track that really drills into that soul is “On Me,” maybe the most quietly gutting song on Where I Stand. It doesn’t shout, it lingers—Gabby’s voice steady but worn down, turning over blame and weight and the ache of emotional cleanup. It’s a song about what happens after the chorus fades—about what’s still yours to carry when the moment’s over. No tricks, no noise. Just a band that knows how to let a feeling breathe without making it feel small.

That track, “Special,” released in May 2025 as part of a digital split with Dummy Pass, is lean and fully locked-in: driving rhythm, aching guitars, and a hook that feels like a warning and a rallying cry all at once. It’s melodic, anthemic, and grounded in the same self-made grit that’s always driven the band. The fact that it dropped through HAWC only makes it hit harder—it’s not just another single, it’s proof that Afloat is building something bigger than themselves.

You don’t come across bands like this often—ones that feel like a secret but deserve a stadium. So if you’re lucky enough to catch them in a basement, don’t take it for granted. Sing the words. Buy the record. Pass it on.

Because Afloat isn’t just floating—they’re building something. And it’s heavy enough to hold.