bonbonfire Debuts With “This Wasn’t The Plan” Album

This Wasn’t The Plan is the debut album from bonbonfire, a project that has been five years in the making. What began as an EP gradually expanded into a full record shaped by shifting seasons of life, pauses, and late-night creation. Between early singles released in the 2020s and the personal milestone of welcoming a child, bonbonfire built an album that reflects the unexpected turns of growing up and holding together a life that does not always follow the script.

The record moves through folktronica, indie rock, lofi ballads, and glitchy experimentation, creating something that feels both personal and wide-reaching. Across nine tracks, This Wasn’t The Plan captures moments of reflection, rebellion, and self-preservation, weaving together stories of identity, politics, parenting, and everyday survival. It is a debut that documents change, burnout, and renewal, while also holding space for joy in the ordinary and the unpredictable.

“The Point, Again” opens the album with gentle guitar strums that build into soft layers of harmony. The voices carry a choir-like tone, giving the song a bright, floating quality. The lyrics feel poetic, but the sound itself is what draws you in. It introduces the album’s habit of mixing sincerity with reflection, setting up a space where simple sounds can hold something larger.

“Night Owl” follows with a lighter step. It moves straight into the vocals and adds quiet percussion that keeps the rhythm steady without ever rushing. The track feels close and personal, the kind of song that lives in the late hours its title describes. The contrast from the opener is clear, but it still feels part of the same quiet world.

“(How Do You Do?)” turns the album toward humor. The song is brief and sharp, almost sarcastic in tone. It sounds like a casual greeting but is closer to a question that doesn’t want an answer. That irony fits the anti-folk influence the band mentioned, giving the album a moment of self-awareness before it moves forward.

The next track, “Wandering a Grocery Store,” follows that irony with something more observational. The song looks at an ordinary setting and finds small details that feel almost cinematic. Its writing feels playful, turning routine moments into something worth noticing. Placed right after “(How Do You Do?)”, it continues the sense of theatre that runs through the middle of the album.

“I’m Doing Fine” keeps that mood alive but shifts the focus inward. On the surface, it sounds like reassurance, but the delivery suggests the opposite. The words and melody move together in a way that sounds calm but uneasy, keeping that dry humor alive. It feels like the band’s way of showing how performance and honesty can exist at the same time.

“Wishful Thinking” slows things down again. It is one of the longest songs here and sits near the heart of the record. The lyrics trace a hopeful idea without forcing it to a conclusion, giving the music room to breathe. The song’s placement makes it feel like a turning point between imagination and reality.

“RIGHT?” feels like the direct response. It has two voices that sound as if they are thinking through the same question from opposite sides. One voice reaches out with optimism while the other questions it, and the rhythm moves between them with a conversational ease. It plays out the realist-versus-idealist contrast that the band described, marking a shift into the final stretch of the album.

“Costumes” looks at the roles people take on and the distance between who they are and how they appear. It arrives after the dialogue of RIGHT? as a quieter reflection, stepping back from debate into something more personal. The tone suggests awareness of the masks people wear to move through life and how easily those can change. Its position near the end ties the album’s themes together, turning the idea of performance into something more human and self-aware.

“Trampolines” closes the record on a calm but open note. The back-and-forth vocals suggest both patience and movement, like waiting for the right time to act. It leaves the listener with a feeling of lift, echoing the idea that even small steps can lead to something freeing.

Across nine songs, This Wasn’t The Plan carries a mix of humor, self-reflection, and subtle storytelling. Each shift in tone adds another layer to its character, creating an album that listens more like a stage play than a simple collection of songs.

What gives This Wasn’t The Plan its strength is the way it keeps the unplanned visible. The record moves between full songs and short interludes, showing that not every moment needs to be polished to carry meaning. In that back-and-forth, bonbonfire shapes scattered fragments into something that feels whole.

As a debut, it works by tracing music through interruptions, pauses, and changes of direction. The nine tracks come together as a portrait of life lived without a clear script, where detours become part of the path forward. By leaving space for those turns, bonbonfire offers an album that feels honest, unpredictable, and worth revisiting.