Need

The nervous light of the spotlights, the sticky air of the club, and the feeling that thoughts are tangled up in the wires between the body and the head. Words here sound like scratches on glass - sometimes affectionate, sometimes hurtful, and between them - a tremor clenched in a fist. The vocals are like a confession that breaks through the makeup, glitter, and noise of the crowd, but somehow remains too personal.

It's like watching a dancer who smiles and reaches out to the audience, while inside he is falling apart, asking, ‘Can you see me? Do you want me?’ The sweet and fragile intertwine with the sharp and painful, and the rhythm clings to the stubborn hope that even in this dirty sincerity there is salvation.