Vitamins by Cello: Review | Illustrate Magazine

Brighton’s Cello, with her debut single “Vitamins,” released fittingly on International Women’s Day, brings punch, serving up a wiry, post-punk critique of modern womanhood that’s as cheeky as it is cutting. Trained as a classical cellist but clearly done playing by the rules, Cello channels that discipline into something taut and deliberate, where repetition is a weapon.

So, “Vitamins” kicks off with heavy, distorted guitars grinding against thumping drums, cymbals sparking like static in the air. It’s gritty, restless, a little chaotic, but then her voice slides in, high and delicate, almost sweet… until you realize it’s anything but. There’s this aggressive softness to her delivery, like she’s smiling through clenched teeth. The contrast? Oh, it hits.

Lyrically, the track runs like a checklist gone rogue. “I’ll do my homework… I’ll be a good girl… I’ll do your therapy…”—each line stacks on the last, building pressure like a kettle about to whistle. It’s mundane on the surface, but underneath, it’s exposing the endless, invisible labour expected of women. And when she asks, “Why don’t you give them to me?” it cuts deeper than it should—less about literal vitamins, more about approval, control, and who gets to hand it out.

Then comes the hook, “Vitamins, vitamins, yeah yeah,” and it’s catchy, almost euphoric. However, there’s an emptiness baked into it, like chasing a high you’ll never quite reach. It loops, it lingers, it nags.

By the end, “Vitamins” releases as much as it reckons. It’s sharp, self-aware, and just uncomfortable enough to stick with you—and honestly, that’s exactly why it works.