My Turning Point’s latest track, “The Eulogy,” doesn’t ask for your attention—it quietly takes it.
Written and recorded in the stillness of early morning, the song carries the weight of something personal, almost too personal. Leon Evans, the sole mind behind the project, captures the ache of memory with a stark, stripped-down honesty. Born from a dream and shaped in the late hours of insomnia, this is less a song and more a sonic confessional.
It begins unassumingly: tentative piano notes and a low, humming bass create a delicate frame, immediately setting a tone that’s intimate and unguarded. Evans, not a pianist by trade, leans into that unfamiliarity. His playing feels hesitant, human—each note carrying the weight of someone searching for the right way to speak their grief. An acoustic guitar threads through the track like a steady heartbeat, adding warmth to the otherwise ghostly atmosphere.
The emotional gravity of “The Eulogy” rests in Evans’ voice—unpolished, exposed, and deeply affecting. There are moments where the pain is tangible, the vulnerability not masked by studio sheen but left intact. The lyrics feel carved out of lived experience: raw reflections on a lost friendship, heavy with history and shared scars. Lines like “trying to breathe but I’m choking on your name” don’t just paint a picture—they wound.
Rather than building to a grand crescendo, the song stays low to the ground, whispering its truths. The sparse production leaves room for silence, for breath, for whatever memories the listener brings with them. It’s in that quiet that the song finds its power.
“The Eulogy” doesn’t strive to impress. It aims to connect. And it does so not through perfection, but through presence—honest, aching, and unforgettable.