Naomi Neva’s “Burning” arrives like a storm cloud ready to rupture, channeling past trauma and present dread into a tightly wound alt-rock anthem. Built around a searing guitar hook and vocals that veer between vulnerable and volcanic, the track captures the emotional fallout of wildfires—both literal and metaphorical. It’s not just about environmental destruction, but about betrayal, loss, and promises that turned to smoke.
The verses linger in a quieter, smoke-choked space before the choruses erupt in fuzzed-out guitars and Naomi’s voice pushed to the edge. “You said we’d be safe, but the sky turned red,” she sings—simple words delivered with a haunted intensity. That tension between stillness and explosion mirrors the song’s roots: a childhood memory of evacuating during a fire, revisited through the lens of recent illness and fractured relationships.
Self-produced in her Oakland home studio and mastered at Abbey Road Studios, the song feels raw but carefully built. Naomi’s production never overwhelms; instead, it lets the emotion sit close to the surface. Even when the arrangement swells, her voice stays central, weathered, expressive, and unwavering.
What’s striking about “Burning” is its refusal to collapse under its weight. While it deals in serious subject matter, the track is driven by defiance more than despair. Naomi doesn’t just mourn what’s lost—she names it, confronts it, and transforms it into sound. The result is a song that aches, claws, and ultimately endures.
In a world teetering between natural and emotional catastrophe, “Burning” stands tall: a stark, gripping reminder that sometimes survival sounds like a scream set to a rhythm.
