Pretoria’s If We’re Pretending Is a Soundtrack for Dreamers, Drifters, and Deep Feelers

Photo credits: @brayimage616

There’s a moment—somewhere between the 2 a.m. bike ride home and the last sip of lukewarm gas station coffee—when life feels a little blurry. You’re not who you were yesterday, not sure who you’ll be tomorrow, but the present? It’s humming, strumming, and trying its best to make sense of the static. That’s exactly where If We’re Pretending, the latest EP from Pretoria, finds its home: in the hazy, heartful in-between.

Pretoria isn’t your average indie rock band trying to cash in on nostalgia or fake a feeling they never earned. They’ve been doing this the hard way—DIY shows in Grand Rapids, midwestern winters, running their own house venue (RIP The Treehouse)—and now they’ve brought that beautiful restlessness to Chicago, a city as uncertain and alive as the music they make.

Their new 7-song EP If We’re Pretending is what happens when five thoughtful weirdos get together and decide to be brutally honest. Not just lyrically—though their words hit that sweet spot between diary scribbles and poetry slams—but musically, too. It’s a project made for deep thinkers, deep feelers, and the people still figuring out where they fall on that scale.

And let’s be clear: this is not a sad boy record in disguise. Sure, there’s grief and longing here, but it’s all tangled up with laughter, color, and those quietly radiant moments that only arrive when you’re alone in your bedroom, music turned up just enough to make the walls feel a little less still. Pretoria somehow bottle that feeling—melancholy made palatable, like sunshine through a smudged window.

The magic lies in how the EP manages to be both playful and profound. There’s metaphor, there’s parallel, there’s a little bit of romantic tension and a whole lot of emotional release. It’s the kind of record you can cry to, dance to, think too much to, or not think at all. Put it on during a rooftop party or while doing nothing in particular on a summer afternoon and it just works.

This isn't a band begging to be liked. Pretoria knows exactly who they are—or at least who they’re becoming. And that honesty? It’s rare. It's what separates the pretenders from the ones who are brave enough to pretend on purpose.

The EP’s title, pulled from the lyric “If we’re pretending, might as well get what we want,” sums it up perfectly: a nod to chasing dreams that feel just a little out of reach, even if you’re not sure they’re real. That kind of courage—that kind of foolish, beautiful delusion—is what makes If We’re Pretending hit so hard. It doesn’t shout, but it resonates.

With sonic fingerprints reminiscent of The Walters, Alvvays, and early Death Cab, Pretoria’s sound is familiar but not formulaic. Their blend of Midwest emo vulnerability and indie-rock ambition offers something oddly comforting, like hearing a song you’ve never listened to but somehow already know. And while the band doesn’t lean into politics, they’re not afraid to stand for something deeper—something bigger than just another catchy chorus.

Lead songwriter Ben DeWitt’s refusal to default to gendered language in their lyrics opens space for listeners who’ve felt left out of mainstream narratives. It’s refreshing, intentional, and long overdue in indie music.

At the end of the day, Pretoria isn’t pretending at all. They’re just making art that feels like a late-night conversation you didn’t know you needed. If We’re Pretending is the EP for anyone trying to make peace with change, with desire, with growing up and growing into yourself.

So go ahead—blast it from your car stereo on a long aimless drive, loop it while journaling on your fire escape, or let it play quietly while you sit in your feelings. However you choose to listen, this much is true: Pretoria isn’t chasing a trend. They’re chasing a truth—and they’ve captured something honest, messy, and kind of perfect along the way.

Listen to "If We're Pretending" wherever you stream music, and maybe even pretend you’re the main character for a while. Pretoria would want that.