Heartbeat Electricity is the song that made me an artist. Before it, I was a girl with a notebook and a head full of melodies. After it, I was someone with a release date.
The idea hit me the way the song hits — fast and loud. Someone walked into a room and I felt my pulse rewrite itself. I've always thought attraction is closer to weather than to feeling. A storm front moving in. Static in the air before the lightning lands. I wanted a track that sounded like that exact second.
I built the demo around a single arpeggio I couldn't stop humming on the bus home from college. Pulsing, restless, a little anxious — like a heart trying to keep up with itself. The drop had to feel like the lightning finally striking. Lights up. Hands up. No turning back.
Lyrically, it's a love song, but it's also a dare. It's about choosing to feel the thing instead of running from it. About letting your heart go full voltage even when you know it might short-circuit you.
Releasing Heartbeat Electricity changed everything. It got me in the studio dancing, humming on the way home in the taxi, into headphones in cities I've never been to, and into DMs from people telling me the song was the reason they finally said something to that someone. That's the whole point.
Every release since has been a wire running back to this one. If Love On The Floor is the dancefloor and Almost Something is the morning after, Heartbeat Electricity is the lightning that started the storm.
Plug in. Turn it up. Let it hit you.
Divalicious