DJ Momotaro’s new single “Neon Heat (feat. Vessa) [Radio Edit]” is less a track you listen to and more a space you occupy for three and a half minutes. The official description promises “optimistic melancholy,” a phrase that sounds like an exquisite paradox until the first synth pad washes over you. This is the sound of a midnight drive through a city that exists only in memory and movies, a place slicked with recent rain and impossibly vivid colors. Momotaro builds the framework—a sleek chassis of Italo Disco and Euro Dance—while Vessa’s emotive vocal cuts through the haze like high beams, bright and purposeful without a hint of desperation.
The claim of an “80s heart with 2025 punch” is no empty boast. The synths have a familiar, comforting ache, but the kick drum hits with a modern, unapologetic thud. For a moment, it made me think about noble gases. Neon, specifically. An element, totally inert and colorless, until you zap it with electricity and it flares into brilliant, unwavering light. That’s what’s happening here. The track finds a dormant feeling—that bittersweet city loneliness—and charges it until it glows with an irresistible rhythm.
This is what the creators mean by an antidote. “Neon Heat” doesn’t ask for your endless attention or a multi-platform share; it’s a self-contained unit of feeling. DJ Momotaro and Vessa seem to understand that a hook isn’t just a catchy melody; it’s an emotional anchor, a simple, solid thing to hold onto while the chrome-and-glass scenery blurs past your window.
The track ends, the engine cuts out, and you’re left sitting in the silence. It’s not the plot of the night drive you remember, but the flickering, indefinable charge in the air. How strange that a song so indebted to the past can make a fleeting moment in the present feel so urgent?
