From the opening moments of “Drug Dealer,” Dima Zouchinski makes it clear that this is not a polished recollection—it’s a confrontation. The track begins with gritty guitar chords that carry the unmistakable weight of 1990s grunge, building tension before the full band crashes in. The drums hit with precision and force, adding urgency without overwhelming the mix, while the bass provides a steady undercurrent that keeps the whole arrangement grounded.
Zouchinski’s vocals are raw and compelling, delivered with a strained intensity that mirrors the emotional weight behind the lyrics. Rather than reaching for metaphors, he chooses directness. The result is a song that feels lived-in and unfiltered. His voice cracks not from technique, but from the emotional force of the experience he’s recounting. There’s pain here, but also resilience.
Compositionally, the track keeps things straightforward, but the dynamics make a lasting impact. Verses simmer with controlled tension, and choruses break loose with distorted guitar riffs and crashing cymbals that reflect the chaos at the heart of the story. The recording quality is sharp enough to preserve detail but maintains the rough edge essential to the genre’s character.
Lyrically, “Drug Dealer” recounts a personal and unsettling experience without melodrama. There’s no attempt to smooth out the story—it’s presented with blunt honesty. That truthfulness is what gives the song its staying power.
Zouchinski’s approach doesn’t aim to romanticize the past or replicate grunge nostalgia for its own sake. Instead, “Drug Dealer” uses familiar sounds to tell an original story, offering a powerful reminder of how personal history can fuel meaningful, emotionally resonant music.