A post-punk mantra wrapped in biting wit and restless energy, “Vitamins” introduces Cello as a singular new voice: confrontational, playful, and uncomfortably honest. Built on hypnotic repetition and deadpan delivery, the track skewers modern expectations of femininity, wellness culture, productivity, and obedience — turning self-care into something transactional, absurd, and quietly furious.

The lyrics move like a checklist from hell: “I’ll do my homework… I’ll be a good girl… I’ll do the housework… I’ll do your therapy… I’ll do my workout…” Each line lands with increasing tension, exposing the invisible labour demanded of women — emotional, domestic, physical, and aesthetic. When Cello asks, “Why don’t you give them to me?” it becomes less about supplements and more about validation, agency, and control.

There’s humour here, but it’s sharp-edged. “Vitamins” dances between satire and sincerity, capturing the exhaustion of trying to be everything at once: healthy, productive, sexy, compliant, resilient. Its chant-like chorus — “Vitamins, vitamins, yeah yeah” — feels both euphoric and hollow, mirroring the endless cycle of self-improvement sold back to us.

Cello’s background gives her sound an unexpected depth. Nicknamed for her classical roots, she trained as a cellist at the Junior Royal College of Music in London before tearing up the rulebook and moving toward post-punk minimalism. That classical discipline still pulses beneath her work — not in ornamentation, but in control, tension, and dramatic pacing. Every repetition is intentional. Every silence is loaded

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