On her latest single, "Heartbeat Chemtrail," Kayla Marque transforms heartache into something downright striking, a blend of gorgeous neon light and brooding inner monologue. From her forthcoming LP, "MindHeaven," the track itself feels less like something you listen to and more like a destination in itself, somewhere wedged between outer space and inner strife.
With the opening synth swell, producer Glenn Sawyer makes his presence known, layers coasting over rain-slicked asphalt in a heatwave atop a pulse akin to an unsure heart desperately trying to sync itself with emotion. The production is more than atmospheric, it's experiential, a slow-motion plunge into the smoky depths of memory and yearning, so heady that you're left spinning. Marque describes it as synths, smoke, neon lights, and heartbreak, and that is entirely appropriate. It feels theatrical but still deeply intimate, the music to a moment you have experienced but never acknowledged. Her voice, smooth yet painful and brutally honest, drives the listener through currents of attachment and detachment alike. She does not sugarcoat anything, she allows the discomfort to drop.
"Heartbeat Chemtrail" is about the internal chaos and emotional fallout that exist between commitment and abandonment. This became Less Like a Dove in which you take the intensity of that emotion or this neural burnout, shall we say, and reclaim it as power. There's beauty in the breakdown.
Which is what makes the track so powerful and packs such a punch. Where your standard breakup anthems might chase either almost-tearful rage or defeatist resignation, Marque lingers in the liminal space, the golden hum of ache somewhere in between. These aren't synths that shine, they hover on the cusp of disintegration. The beat stutters and stumbles forward like someone just relearning to walk again.