If you’ve ever found yourself dancing on the edge of an emotion that you can’t quite name, “Miss Green” by Deborah Carroll manages to turn that feeling into a pulsating, rhythmic experience. The track opens with a beat that feels both familiar and distant — like hearing your neighbor playing EDM through the wall while you’re writing poetry about lost love.
But Carroll isn’t just your average soul-powered voice floating in the cosmic house-stream. No, she’s like the protagonist of a neon-lit short film where the plot revolves around loving someone who’s slowly disappearing into thick clouds of cannabis smoke. Producer Patrik Remen (KPN) lays down a lush electronic landscape that swells and sinks, reflecting that hazy, intoxicating balance between serenity and dysfunction.
And here’s the thing: “Miss Green” isn’t about dancing, though you could absolutely get lost bobbing your head to it. It’s about the emotional push-and-pull that can stretch a relationship, whether it be across the Eurostar or just across a living room. The theme of addiction becomes an almost tangible vapor here, and you can’t help but picture Carroll, standing on a balcony at 3 AM, waiting for honesty to bloom through the smoke.
If Vincent van Gogh painted sound, it might feel a bit like this: bright yellows in the beat, swirling blues in the melody, but those reds underneath remind you someone’s bleeding.
As the last bass thud fades, the question lingers — how much of ourselves do we lose while trying to save someone else, especially when they’re slipping farther and farther into escape?
Probably more than we realize.
