SINGLE REVIEW: Nemo – Supernova
‘Supernova’ is the kind of song that feels like it’s expanding and imploding at the same time — a slow-motion collision of beauty and melancholy. Nemo’s voice drifts somewhere between a whisper and a confession, suspended in glacial synths and hazy guitar that glimmer with Velvet Underground ethereal cool and modern art-pop restraint. It’s dark, dreamy, and deliberate, like the moment you realise you’ve lost yourself in thought and don’t quite want to come back.
There’s a weightless quality to the production — everything floats, yet nothing feels empty. The synths swell and contract with a heartbeat-like rhythm, while the guitar hums quietly beneath, grounding the celestial shimmer in something human. It’s understated, but in that restraint lies its power; every sound feels intentional, every silence carefully placed.
Hints of Nemo’s forthcoming album Blue is the Color of Infinity linger at the song’s edges — that fascination with scale, emotion, and the infinite — but ‘Supernova’ stands alone as its own universe. It’s both intimate and otherworldly, a song that doesn’t just reach for the stars but asks what it means to disappear among them.
