Julianna Zachariou's "Dreamer Dreamer" Feels Like Finding a Lost '70s Recording

San Diego's Julianna Zachariou has this uncanny ability to make you forget what decade you're living in. Her latest track, "Dreamer Dreamer," doesn't just nod to '70s California folk rock—it genuinely sounds like someone unearthed a pristine recording from Laurel Canyon circa 1973.

The song starts so quietly you might miss it if you're not paying attention. There's something almost childlike about the opening melody, the kind of tune you'd hum while doing dishes or walking to the corner store. But that simplicity is deceptive. As the track unfolds over its brief two-and-a-half-minute runtime, Zachariou layers in these gorgeous guitar arrangements that wash over you like warm afternoon sunlight.

What sets Julianna Zachariou apart from other artists mining vintage sounds is how naturally she inhabits this musical space. She's not just a songwriter—she produces and plays multiple instruments on her recordings, giving her complete control over the sonic palette. You can hear that attention to detail in how the soft drums and shakers complement rather than compete with her voice, which floats through the mix with this effortless quality that recalls Joni Mitchell or early Linda Ronstadt.

The production choices here are fascinating. Where most contemporary artists would pile on the reverb or add digital flourishes to announce themselves as modern, Zachariou strips everything back. The recording has this intimate, room-sound quality—you can almost picture her sitting cross-legged on a shag carpet, surrounded by vintage mics and analog gear. It's warm and immediate in a way that digital production rarely achieves.

The music video, filmed in Pembrokeshire, Wales and directed by Athena Kulb, matches the song's dreamlike quality perfectly. Rather than going for flashy visuals or quick cuts, the video takes its time, letting scenes breathe and unfold naturally. It features performances by Jeff Frantom, Becka Palter, and Klara Feenstra, who help bring the song's contemplative mood to visual life. The Welsh countryside setting adds an unexpected but welcome element—there's something about those rolling hills and ancient stone walls that mirrors the timeless quality of the music itself.

Lyrically, Zachariou paints these small vignettes of everyday people—a church choir member eating bagels and texting while driving, a janitor who "leaves the office looking spotless" while never looking down, a gym teacher building strength day by day. There's poetry in how she observes these ordinary moments, transforming them into something worth singing about. The recurring "dreamer" motif ties these characters together, suggesting everyone's carrying their own quiet aspirations through their daily routines.

What's particularly striking is how Zachariou avoids the trap of overly precious indie-folk writing. These aren't characters designed to be quirky or profound. They're just people doing their thing—the phys ed teacher keeping "her eye upon the ball," the person who turns "the dark into the light" like coffee creamer. That last image is especially clever—taking something as mundane as coffee whitener and spinning it into a metaphor for transformation.

The line about "hesitation constellations" where "asterisks keep turning into stars" might be the song's most arresting moment. It captures that feeling of uncertainty gradually crystallizing into possibility, doubt becoming clarity. It's the kind of lyric that sticks with you, rolling around in your head hours after the song ends.

The song's brevity actually works in its favor. Just when you're fully immersed in its hypnotic chord progression, it's over, leaving you reaching for the replay button. That final moment, where Zachariou's voice rises melodically on the word "dreamer," genuinely does feel like she's casting some kind of spell—a sonic reminder to hold onto whatever dreams you're carrying. The way she stretches and lifts that final syllable transforms it from a simple word into something closer to an incantation.

For an independent artist working out of San Diego, Zachariou has crafted something that transcends typical indie-folk categorization. This isn't coffee shop background music or playlist filler. It's the kind of track that stops you mid-scroll, makes you put down your phone, and actually listen. In a streaming era where songs often feel engineered for 15-second TikTok clips, here's an artist trusting that listeners still have the patience for something quieter, something that reveals itself slowly.

The timing of this release feels particularly resonant. As we navigate 2025's constant digital noise and endless notifications, there's something deeply appealing about music that asks you to slow down, to pay attention to small moments and everyday dreamers. Julianna Zachariou isn't trying to save the world or make grand statements. She's just noticing things—how people move through their days carrying secret hopes, how ordinary tasks can become almost ritualistic, how we're all reaching for something just beyond our grasp.

"Dreamer Dreamer" works because it doesn't try too hard. In an era of maximalist production and shrinking attention spans, here's a song that trusts its own quietness, its own pace, its own peculiar magic. It's the musical equivalent of finding a handwritten letter in a world of text messages—something crafted with care, meant to be savored rather than consumed.

You can follow Julianna Zachariou's work across platforms at her Linktree and on Instagram.