Deserted track and smoky lights. A velvet dance: minimal and delicate.
It enchanted me. With its awfully basic arrangements reduced to the bare essentials, a terribly pop hybrid of new wave and electronic eighties, those synthesizers with terribly horrible sounds. And the awfully sensual voice however common of Her, a forge of thoughtless sketched melodies.
Yet, it keeps bouncing in my head. Because it flows like a night drive home, on the highway.
"Night Drive" is the slowest dance of a drunk and alone girl,
with smudged mascara, at 4 in the morning.