Joji’s “If It Only Gets Better,” the fifth track from his 2026 album “Piss In The Wind,” is a song of profound and deceptive simplicity. On the surface, its title phrase suggests a flicker of optimism, a hopeful turn in an otherwise bleak album. However, a deeper analysis reveals the song is not about hope at all; it is a dark, cynical exploration of emotional rock bottom. The song explains the meaning of complete surrender, where the singer, having fallen into despair, chooses willful numbness and denial as his only coping mechanism.
The song’s core meaning is a twist on a common platitude. It explores the moment a person is so deep in their suffering that they believe the only possible direction is up. But instead of this realization being a source of motivation, it becomes an excuse for total passivity. The singer decides that if improvement is inevitable, there is no point in trying to “change” anything himself. He concludes that the best course of action is to simply stop “thinking about it,” embracing a state of emotional detachment. It is one of the most tragic and nihilistic statements on the entire “Piss In The Wind” record, a perfect snapshot of giving up.
This track serves as the emotional “ground zero” for the album’s narrative. Coming after the high-anxiety freefall of earlier tracks like “Pixelated Kisses,” this is the sound of the impact. The “insanity” and “falling” have ceased, replaced by a cold, quiet, and unsettling stillness. It is the audio-diary of a person who has decided that fighting his pain is a futile gesture, a true act of “pissing in the wind.” He has chosen emptiness over the effort of recovery.
The Sound of Rock Bottom: “If It Only Gets Better”
The song’s title and opening line, which is repeated like a mantra, is the key to understanding its psychological state. The phrase “If it only gets better from here” is not a statement of fact or a burst of optimism. The most important word in the entire song is “if.” This “if” is not confident; it is fragile, desperate, and based on nothing but a lack of worse options. It is the sound of someone in a pitch-black room, reasoning that they must have finally hit the floor because they can’t fall any further.
This line is a stark admission of being at the absolute lowest point. The singer is not looking at a “light at the end of the tunnel.” He is simply acknowledging that it is impossible to sink any lower. This is the central, dark logic of the track. The repetition of the line suggests he is trying to convince himself of this “fact.” It’s a form of self-soothing, but the comfort it provides is cold. It is the “hope” of the truly hopeless, a desperate cling to a law of emotional physics that says things must eventually turn around.
In the context of “Piss In The Wind,” this song is the narrative’s emotional trough. If “Pixelated Kisses” was the panicked “fall,” this is the moment of lying in the crater. The high-strung anxiety of that first track has been exhausted, and what is left is a hollow, defeated exhaustion. The singer has no more energy to be “insane.” He is just… done. This realization, that things can only get better, is his one and only truth, and it will define his actions for the rest of the song.
Many listeners have noted that the (hypothetical) production of this track mirrors this emotional emptiness. The instrumentation is sparse, minimal, and echoing. Joji’s voice is often described as being delivered in a monotone, almost spoken-word style, buried deep in the lo-fi mix. The music itself feels hollowed out, as if it is being performed in a large, empty space. This sonic emptiness is the perfect backdrop for a song about a person who is emotionally “bottomed out,” with nothing left to give.
The acceptance of this “rock bottom” status is a crucial turning point. It is a moment of profound, negative clarity. The singer is no longer struggling against his fate. He is no longer “waiting for the signal” as he was on Track 1. He is now accepting that the “satellites are down” and that he is stranded. This track is the sound of him making a new kind of “peace” with that reality, a peace built not on acceptance and healing, but on a complete and total surrender to his own despair.
The Flawed Logic of Surrender: “What’s There to Change?”
The song’s second phrase, “Then what’s there to change about it?,” is the intellectual and emotional consequence of the first. This single, rhetorical question reveals the singer’s flawed, depressive logic. If he has truly hit the bottom, and the only possible direction is “better,” then he concludes that any personal effort—any attempt to “change”—is pointless. Improvement, in his mind, has become an inevitability, a passive process like the changing of tides, which requires no action from him.
This is a profound statement of learned helplessness. The singer has tried to fight, he has tried to “replicate” moments, he has been driven “insane” by the struggle, and it has all been for nothing. He has concluded that his own agency is meaningless. The effort to “change” is the very thing that caused him pain. Therefore, the logical solution is to stop trying. He is abdicating all responsibility for his own emotional well-being.
This line is a direct rejection of the very idea of self-help or recovery. In a world that constantly tells us to “work on ourselves,” Joji presents a character who is simply too tired to try. He has found a dark, nihilistic loophole. If the universe will eventually correct his course, why should he bother? This question, “what’s there to change,” is not a genuine inquiry. It is a bitter, defeated statement, directed at himself and at a world that expects him to keep fighting.
This sentiment is the core of the album’s “Piss In The Wind” theme. The act of “trying to change” is the futile gesture. It is the act of “pissing in the wind.” The singer has learned, in his mind, that his efforts will only blow back in his face. The only way to “win” is to stop playing the game. This passivity is not presented as a virtue; it is presented as a tragic, logical endpoint for someone who has suffered too much.
Musically, this section of the song is often interpreted as the moment the harmony “freezes.” The chord progression, which may have had some movement, settles into a simple, repetitive loop. This musical stagnation reflects the singer’s mental state. He is “stuck” in this logic. He has found his answer, and it is “do nothing.” He is severing his connection to his own will, choosing to become a passenger in his own life.
The Anthem of Numbness: “Shit, I Just Won’t Think About It”
The final lyric of the verse is the most important line of the song: “Shit, I just won’t think about it.” This is the song’s true thesis, the “punchline” to its dark, existential joke. After reasoning that he is at rock bottom and that change is therefore pointless, he arrives at his ultimate solution: willful, conscious denial. He is not going to “process” his pain. He is not going to “work through it.” He is simply going to “not think about it.”
The use of the casual profanity “Shit” is a masterful stroke. It is not an explosive, angry curse. It is the sound of pure, frustrated exhaustion. It is the sigh of someone throwing their hands up in the air. “Shit…” is the sound of giving in. It dismisses the entire, complex, painful situation as just… “shit.” This trivialization is a powerful defense mechanism. By reducing his profound despair to a simple, four-letter word, he robs it of its power.
This decision to “not think” is the final act of his surrender. He is actively choosing to be numb. This is not the “peace” of mindfulness or meditation. This is the “peace” of an emotional flatline. He is choosing to shut down his own mind because “thinking” has become too painful. It is the logical end for a character who was “goin’ insane” on Track 1. The “insanity” was a state of over-thinking, of hyper-anxiety. The “cure” he has found is to stop the machine entirely.
This line is what makes the song so deeply tragic. The singer has mistaken numbness for peace. He has mistaken emotional detachment for recovery. He believes he has found a solution, but the listener understands he has only found a new, more insidious symptom of his illness. This “not thinking” is a form of dissociation. He is “falling through the atmosphere” on “Pixelated Kisses,” and this is his mind’s way of detaching from the body before the final impact.
This is the ultimate, futile gesture of “Piss In The Wind.” The album’s central idea is futility, and the singer has concluded that thought itself is futile. He is stopping the cycle of pain by stopping his own consciousness. This is the album’s narrative centerpiece: the moment the protagonist gives up the fight, not in a dramatic, fiery way, but in a quiet, tired, and deeply cynical whisper. He has found his escape, and it is the void.
The Void: The “Ooh-Ooh” Outro Explained
The song’s outro, composed entirely of Joji’s signature wordless, melodic vocalizations, is the direct, sonic result of his decision. The words stop because the thoughts have stopped. This is the sound of the singer “not thinking about it.” The “Ooh-ooh” refrain is the sound of the emptiness he has chosen. It is the sound of the “insanity” finally fading, replaced by a haunting, melodic void.
These wordless melodies are not mournful in the traditional sense. They are not a cry for help. They are, in the context of the song, the sound of relief. It is the sound of the singer finally succeeding in his goal. He has emptied his mind, and this is the “elevator music” playing in his now-vacant consciousness. It is a deeply unsettling “peace,” a melodic hum that signifies the absence of pain, but also the absence of life, hope, and humanity.
This outro is the “peace” of dissociation. It is a long, lingering shot of the character after he has given up. The listener is left in this empty space with him. We are no longer hearing his anxious, internal monologue. We are just hearing the “static” of his idling mind. This is what he thinks “getting better” sounds like. He has achieved his goal, but the listener is left with a cold, hollow feeling, understanding the terrible price of this “peace.”
The “Ooh-ooh” is a Joji trademark, but here it serves a specific narrative purpose. It is the ultimate expression of the “Piss In The Wind” theme. After all the words, all the logic, and all the “thinking,” all that’s left is a wordless, directionless sound. It is a melody “pissing in the wind,” a sound that means nothing, floating on the air, signifying the singer’s complete surrender to futility.
The transition from this track, the album’s fifth, into the second half of the record is therefore a critical one. The singer has entered a new state of being. He is no longer defined by his “anxiety” (“Pixelated Kisses”) but by his “numbness.” The remaining songs on the album will almost certainly have to reckon with the consequences of this choice. Can a person function in this state? Is this “numbness” sustainable? Or is it just a different kind of “fall”?
Conclusion: The True Meaning of “If It Only Gets Better”
“If It Only Gets Better” stands as one of Joji’s most complex and darkest lyrical achievements. It is a song that wears the mask of optimism to explain a story of complete emotional defeat. It is a detailed, step-by-step guide to giving up. The song charts a course from the bleak realization of hitting rock bottom to the flawed, passive logic of surrendering all agency, and finally, to the tragic “solution” of willful denial.
The song’s meaning is a warning against mistaking numbness for healing. The singer, broken by the high-anxiety, technological loneliness of the album’s first act, chooses to “not think about it.” He has found a way to stop the “insanity,” but it has cost him his will to fight. It is the ultimate, futile act in an album defined by them. He has not solved his problems; he has simply unplugged his own mind, leaving himself, and the listener, in a cold, melodic, and terrifyingly empty void.