When I play Neon Lights, it feels like autumn steps back a little. The room gets warmer — not from the heater, but from the sound itself. The track begins softly, yet with the first bars comes a pulse of energy that makes you want to move, even if you’re sitting still.
There’s something familiar in Devin D.’s music, like an old photograph you suddenly find tucked between the pages of a book. This track brings back the days when life felt simpler, when everything still lay ahead, and music from your phone could make any day brighter.
The piano here doesn’t just accompany — it leads. Its sound carries the same kind of drive you hear in Eric Prydz’s work, but without the cold gleam of big arenas. With Devin D., it feels warmer, more alive, more human. It’s the kind of rhythm that lifts your mood not by shouting, but by moving forward with quiet confidence. And maybe that’s why this track doesn’t imitate — it speaks in its own voice.
I find myself listening not to analyze it, but to bring back a sense of inner lightness. There’s something deeply human in this composition. Devin D. seems to say, “Here, take five minutes, forget everything, and just be with yourself.” And I really do take those five minutes — not to escape, but to remember that it feels good to simply exist, here and now.
Perhaps that’s the power of Neon Lights: it doesn’t promise to change the world, but it reminds you how good it feels to be alive when there’s music playing inside you.
