Right then, Livvy Lauren. “Felt Love”. A single, a dispatch from the heart’s erratic GPS, apparently. This isn’t a slow burn; it’s a sun-flare. That first thrum of a connection, bottled, shaken, and sprayed all over the dance floor. Kent, huh? Always seemed like a place where secret drum and bass anthems might be brewing. I picture it now: rolling hills meeting synth waves, like a medieval knight stumbling upon a rave. The lyrics, simple enough to feel like shared secrets, yet specific, are that feeling you get after accidentally touching hands when reaching for the same box of popcorn. You know, that one.
There’s a rhythmic backbone here, something of a Frankensteinian blend, which surprisingly works. House. RnB. A hint of what feels like the early 2000’s garage spirit. It’s the music equivalent of a perfectly curated chaotic kitchen where suddenly a three-course meal emerges – somehow – without burning down the house. This is pop music that wants you to feel, and not just feel good, but feel. That slightly giddy disorientation when your breath goes a bit wonky. This is what love felt like when I was nine, building Lego fortresses, completely and utterly convinced I was a time traveler, or a ninja, or a time traveling ninja? I’m drifting, aren’t I? Sorry.
It’s a strange thought to make dance music about new love – how can you be vulnerable and dance your heart out at the same time? This song makes me believe you can. There’s no attempt to be ‘deep’ here, it’s unapologetically buoyant. This isn’t a slow dance on a moonlit balcony; it’s stumbling, laughing, and spilling a drink at 3 AM.
“Felt Love” doesn’t claim to be a cure for world issues, but maybe… just maybe it’s a reminder that the rush of connection can briefly silence everything else. What does that say about us, I wonder?
