ORDER chaos ORDER by Calum Hood: For the Ones Who’ve Listened Closely All Along
by Britney McVey | June 16, 2025
There’s a very particular kind of quiet pride that comes with watching someone you’ve grown up admiring step into their own. That’s exactly what listening to ORDER chaos ORDER feels like. As a fan of Calum Hood since the early 5SOS days—back when his Instagram account tags were filled with Picsart edits—this album hits like a letter written to every version of himself, and to us.
This isn’t a debut in the traditional sense; it’s more of a release in the truest emotional form of the word. From the moment track one, “Don’t Forget You Love Me,” begins, you can feel the ache he’s been holding. It’s stripped down, vulnerable, and delivered with a kind of sincerity that doesn’t ask for attention—it just quietly commands it. Calum’s voice is lower, more grounded, but with that same warmth we’ve always known. The chorus is a lifeline, not just for whoever it’s written about, but maybe for him too.
“Call Me When You Know Better” follows like a sigh—equal parts frustration and acceptance. It has this understated groove that feels like the kind of fight you don’t want to have, but need to. If you’ve ever walked away from someone while hoping they catch up someday, this one will get under your skin.
Then comes “Sweetdreams”, which is just... devastatingly beautiful. The production is dreamy but heavy-lidded, like it’s on the edge of sleep and sorrow. It reminded me of the kind of song you play at 2am because silence feels too loud. It also made me tear up, so thanks for that, Cal.
“I Wanted To Stay” feels like a spiritual sibling to “Ghost of You,” but more resigned. There’s no begging here, just reflection—one of the many signs that Calum isn’t trying to perform heartbreak for us. He’s letting us into it. And “Sunsetter” is a personal favorite. It’s the closest we get to light on this record, like the golden hour bleeding through closed blinds. There's something about the way he says goodbye here that feels like a promise, not an ending. This song is the bit of light peeking through the clouds as soon as a storm has passed.
Mid-album, we hit “All My Affection”, which is so gentle, it feels like he’s singing it from the next room. It’s the kind of love song that doesn't need fireworks. It’s just a slow burn—honest, raw, and a little scared. “Endless Ways” picks up the pace again, carrying a subtle urgency that pulses like someone running out of time to say what they mean.
“Streetwise” took me by surprise. It’s gritty in a way Calum hasn’t explored before—almost cinematic. The lyrics are vivid, snapshots of youthful filled experiences shared with another, learning the hard way. And then “Dark Circles” hits, and suddenly you’re not just hearing exhaustion—you’re feeling it. It’s insomnia, regret, and years of emotional weight all tangled into one of the album’s most haunting moments.
Finally, there’s “Three of Swords.” I don’t know how to explain this one except to say it feels like closure. Or at least, the beginning of it. The tarot reference doesn’t feel cheesy—it feels earned. After 10 tracks of love, loss, and quiet reckoning, this song ends the album like someone finally breathing out after holding it in for years.
ORDER chaos ORDER is not loud. It doesn’t beg for streams or chart placements. It feels like it was made because Calum needed to make it—and that’s what makes it hit so hard. It’s a quiet triumph. A collection of songs written by someone who finally allowed himself to feel everything, and let us listen in.
