There’s something wonderfully arrogant about Neon Heat by DJ Momotaro. Not arrogant in the “ego trip” way, but in the sense that it doesn’t feel the need to justify itself. It shows up, already glowing, and simply assumes you’ll want to follow it onto the dance floor. Which is fair, because you will.
This is a song that’s technically been around since 1989, or at least its skeleton has. Back then, it was just a synth motif scribbled into existence, probably in the musical equivalent of a Moleskine notebook, waiting for someone to do it justice. Now, in 2025, it’s been rebuilt into a full-blooded, neon-noir dance-pop creature with an ‘80s heart and a modern production budget.
The synths are unapologetically bright; not in a “cheap LED strip light” way, but in the way old arcade machines used to glow at you, slightly too much for your eyes but exactly right for your mood. The bass wraps around the whole thing like the expensive insulation you only discover exists when you step outside and notice how cold it could be. It’s pristine, but not clinical; tight, but never suffocating.
Then there’s the featured artist Vessa, whose vocal delivery has that Euro Dance diva clarity. Think the late ‘80s at their most glamorous, but also carries a modern sting. She doesn’t tease you with a slow build; the chorus arrives almost immediately, as if to say: No, you don’t need foreplay. You came here for this. Her voice and the lead synth line spend the whole track in conversation, trading hooks like they’ve been rivals for years but can’t resist flirting.
And while yes, this is Italo Disco and Euro Dance territory, it doesn’t feel like dressing up in mum’s clothes for nostalgia points. The rhythms are locked so tight between kick and bass that your body will start moving before you consciously approve it. The retro touches such as a bit of gated reverb here, a synthwave shimmer there; they’re more like atmospheric tools.
You could put Neon Heat in a playlist between Ryan Paris and the Pet Shop Boys without it breaking character, but it would sit just as comfortably next to Kavinsky or Blinding Lights-era The Weeknd. In the end, Neon Heat by DJ Momotaro doesn’t pretend to be a time capsule. It’s not looking backward with longing; it’s raiding the past for the good stuff, supercharging it, and handing it back like it’s always belonged to now.
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About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for publications in the US and former lead writer of Atop The Treehouse. Reviews music, film and TV shows for media aggregators.
