Brooks John Martin isn’t interested in making “Do” easy to explain.
The first single from his upcoming album War All The Time, “Do” takes the emotional turbulence of a manic arc and turns it into something unexpectedly buoyant, surreal and funny. It is a song about breakdowns, breakthroughs and the unpredictable territory in between, yet its energy is closer to celebration than collapse.
Martin describes it as “non-linear Lewis Carroll nonsense,” an intentionally loose description for a song that refuses to move in a straight line. Its subject matter may come from a complicated emotional place, but the track approaches it without the heaviness listeners might expect.
In fact, Martin calls “Do” arguably the happiest song ever written about a manic arc.
That contradiction is central to the song. Rather than attempting to neatly translate emotional instability into a conventional narrative, “Do” allows the experience to remain messy. Ideas collide, moods shift and the absurd becomes part of the storytelling. The song doesn’t necessarily explain what a breakdown or breakthrough feels like. Instead, it captures the sensation of moving through one.
That fits naturally with Martin’s broader approach to songwriting. Throughout his artistic evolution, he has tended to favor lyrics that communicate moods and feelings over straightforward, linear narratives. His songs often operate through impression, atmosphere and emotional association, giving listeners the freedom to experience them rather than simply follow a plot.
“Do” pushes that philosophy further.
The track comes from the emotional extremes surrounding a manic arc, but there is no attempt to make the subject solemn simply because it is serious. Martin allows humor and absurdity to exist alongside the more difficult material, creating a song that can feel exhilarating even when its underlying subject matter is anything but simple.
The accompanying music video takes that idea even further.
Set against a stylized version of 1960s Japan, the visual is a completely AI-generated journey that operates according to its own dream logic. Reality isn’t particularly important here. The video is designed to complement the song’s refusal to follow conventional rules, creating a visual world where anything can happen.
And then there is Tom Jones.
At Martin’s specific request, the video features his own likeness dancing like the legendary singer. The sequence arrives as the ultimate payoff to the video’s increasingly surreal journey, with the final 30 seconds becoming an intentionally ridiculous spectacle.
Martin is clearly in on the joke.
Rather than using the technology to create something overly serious or visually self-important, the video embraces the strange possibilities of AI and lets the concept become increasingly absurd. The result is less a traditional narrative music video than a visual fever dream built around the personality of the song.
The humor doesn’t diminish the subject matter. If anything, it gives Martin another way to approach it.
There is something revealing about taking a difficult emotional experience and allowing yourself to find the ridiculousness inside it. “Do” doesn’t attempt to sanitize its subject, but it also refuses to suggest that every complicated experience needs to be presented through darkness.
That tension has long existed in Martin’s music.
His dreamy baritone carries the romantic qualities of post-punk, new wave and Brit-pop, giving his songs a sense of emotional weight even when the material itself moves somewhere unexpected. On previous albums, crunchy alternative-rock guitars have provided much of the musical foundation, creating a contrast between the rougher instrumental textures and the more romantic quality of his voice.
With “Do,” those qualities meet a much more playful sensibility.
The result is a song that can be heard as both an emotional document and a piece of surreal pop-art absurdity. The music invites the listener into Martin’s headspace, while the video throws open the doors and lets the imagination run wild.
Martin’s relationship with music began early. He started learning piano at eight and guitar at 14, eventually developing the instrumental and songwriting instincts that would become central to his work. Over time, his music has evolved through different sounds and influences, but the emphasis on emotion and atmosphere has remained.
War All The Time will continue that evolution.
As its first single, “Do” offers a particularly unpredictable introduction to the album. It suggests a record willing to explore difficult emotional territory without becoming trapped by it, and willing to find humor in places where humor isn’t necessarily expected.
There is also something fitting about beginning an album called War All The Time with a song that sounds so happy.
“Do” understands that emotional life rarely behaves in neat categories. A breakdown can contain exhilaration. A breakthrough can arrive in the middle of confusion. Something painful can become funny years, months or even minutes later. Happiness can exist alongside chaos.
Martin doesn’t try to resolve those contradictions.
He turns them into a song.
And then he ends the video by dancing like Tom Jones.
Stay for the final 30 seconds.
Modern Mystery 
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