LORYANN releases “My Anxiety,” a club-ready confession that turns panic into pop choreography.
LORYANN has released her single “My Anxiety,” a panic attack that learned to two-step. The Montreal pop polymath converts dread into choreography, crafting a club-grade confession whose adrenaline feels both disarming and addictive. The production is unequivocally upbeat: a bouncy kick-bass engine pulses like a metronome for racing thoughts, while bright synth stabs and crisp claps sketch a vivid, radio-ready skyline. Hooks arrive in quick succession—a polyglot of syllables and “da-da” bursts that mimic hyperventilation—so the track flickers between exhilaration and brinkmanship.
Vocally, LORYANN favors a gleaming, elastic delivery—pop-centric, tensile, and radio-coded—recalling the athletic clarity of Katy Perry and the breathy snap of Britney Spears without lapsing into imitation. The arrangement keeps everything aerodynamic: verses coil with tensile restraint; the chorus detonates cleanly; transitions feel like clean breaths between sprints.
Lyrically, anxiety is personified as the hunter you can feel before you see—“claws,” “chase,” and unseen plotting rendered as somatic flashes. Yet the framing is pragmatic rather than melodramatic: she names the physiology (jaw tension, vein-sting, mental static) and then dances through it, turning catastrophe into cadence. That tension—tachycardia yoked to a four-on-the-floor smile—creates the song’s peculiar electricity.
Meanwhile, Context matters. A lifelong multi-instrumentalist, LORYANN carries the discipline of practice into pop craftsmanship: accessible melodies, yes, but threaded with diaristic detail and muscular structure. “My Anxiety” ultimately functions like cardio for the nervous system—kinetic, cathartic, strangely consoling. You exit charged rather than crushed, humming the hook while your pulse settles, grateful that someone finally made panic feel danceable. Stream below
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