Okay so I’ve been sleeping on Jason Ross and Lin Was Here, and I’m pissed at myself about it. You know when you stumble onto an artist through Spotify’s algorithm doing its thing and you’re immediately like where the fuck has this been hiding? That was me last week discovering ‘Crash,’ this melodic dubstep track that sounds like drowning in the best and worst way possible. I was supposed to be working but had my usual deep focus playlist on and then this track comes through with Lin’s voice asking all these questions I’ve been too scared to ask myself. Suddenly I’m staring at my laptop screen just letting this wash over me and feeling called the fuck out. Because here’s what nobody tells you about healing from your last relationship: you think you’re fine, you think you’re ready, and then someone shows up who makes you feel things again and you realize you’re absolutely not fucking ready but you want them anyway. That’s ‘Crash.’ That’s the whole goddamn vibe.
The melodic dubstep and future bass production pulls you under slowly, deliberately. The track opens with Lin waiting on the shoreline trying to decide if she’s gonna jump in or run. You’ve been there right? You meet someone who makes your body react before your brain can stop it and suddenly you’re back in that place where you have to choose between staying safe and letting yourself feel again. The water metaphor fucking destroys me because falling for someone really does feel exactly like losing your footing – that moment when you realize you’re in too deep and you don’t know if they’re gonna keep you afloat or let you go under. Lin sings “here I’m waiting on the shoreline / and I still don’t have a clue / need to see the light before I / can decide what I will do” and I felt that shit in my bones. She needs proof before she risks it. Fair.
Real talk, the production here is doing work. Jason Ross builds this gorgeous hypnotic soundscape that feels massive and delicate with all these layers stacking up until you’re completely submerged in the sound. The drop hits and it’s this perfect contradiction of wanting to lose control and being terrified of it. That tension between the melodic trance energy and the grittier bass feels exactly like the internal war Lin’s describing in the lyrics. You want to dive in headfirst. You also want to protect yourself. Your body’s already making the decision while your brain’s still calculating risk.
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Then comes the question that wrecks everything – ” should I jump into the water / I’m afraid that I might drown / if I’m gonna have to swim then show me how. “ Pause. She’s asking him to teach her how to do this without destroying herself in the process. That vulnerability right there? That’s the whole fucking thing we’re too scared to say out loud. Will you still be here when I’m struggling to keep my head above water? The way Lin delivers this raw and honest over these swelling synths is devastating.
The chorus is where she lays it all out. ” Crash all over me / not sure if I’m ready for the wave / I don’t wanna make the same mistake / and dive into the deep / I know that the choice is mine to make / should I run or let it crash all over me? “ And listen, that line about not wanting to make the same mistake again? I hate how right this is. When your last relationship fucked you up every new person feels like a potential replay of the worst night of your life. You’re standing there wanting them so badly but also knowing exactly how bad it hurt last time. The fact that she admits the choice is hers? She’s taking ownership of her fear and her desire at the same time. She didn’t just spill tea with this she hosted a TED Talk with receipts.
Jason Ross is one of those producers who’s genuinely fucking hard to pin down, and that’s exactly what makes him good. He started out as an Anjunabeats golden boy making gorgeous trance with Above & Beyond’s blessing, dropping tracks like Cairo and Atlas that would make you cry at a festival in the best way possible. But he didn’t stay there. While everyone expected him to just keep making four-to-the-floor trance forever he said fuck the boundaries and dove headfirst into melodic bass, working with Seven Lions on genre-defining shit like Higher Love and Ocean that somehow sound massive and delicate at the same time. His 2019 Rooms EP proved he could still do trance beautifully, but tracks like Shelter, One More Day with Blanke, Wild Ones, and After You with Gryffin show he’s built something entirely his own. Jason’s whole vibe is taking that hypnotic, emotional trance energy and weaving it into the grittier, more commercial world of melodic bass, and somehow it just works. He’s not trying to fit into one box because the man operates best when he’s bouncing between all of them and honestly? That versatility is what makes him one of the scene’s most elusive and essential acts right now.
Lindi Konings, the 20-year-old Dutch vocalist behind the stage name Lin was here, is making shit happen across the dance music scene and she’s doing it her way. This girl’s got an intense, soulful voice that hits different whether she’s screaming over hardstyle drops with TRIIIPL3 INC. and Galactixx or getting all emotional on melodic bass tracks like here with Jason Ross. She writes from real life experiences, which means every vocal she lays down comes from somewhere honest, and you can fucking hear it. The Netherlands native also goes by lindi.wave for some projects because why limit yourself to one vibe when you can do it all? She’s young and building a name as the voice that can handle the festival-destroying hardstyle energy and the cry-in-your-feelings melodic moments.
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Alright so back to the breakdown. The second half of the track gets even more visceral. Lin asks ” can I trust you with my feelings? / is it really worth the risk? “ and I’m nodding aggressively because those are the exact questions that keep you up at 3am when you’re catching feelings for someone new. Can I hand you my heart when the last person who had it dropped it and watched it shatter? Is the potential of what we could be worth risking the guaranteed safety of staying closed off? These aren’t casual questions. The answers determine whether you’re gonna let yourself be happy or whether you’re gonna protect yourself into loneliness.
But here’s where Lin does something genius. After all that fear and hesitation she admits: ” yet I know it is the thing I truly miss. “ Holy shit. She’s scared as fuck and she still wants the terrifying beautiful chaos of being vulnerable with another person. That last line slays me because it’s the truth we don’t want to admit. We can be healing and hurting and still want connection. This is the kind of honesty that gets you applauded by your therapist.
I spent six months after my last relationship telling myself I was fine and that I didn’t need anyone. Then I met someone who made me laugh at something stupid in a grocery store and suddenly all that careful distance I’d built felt suffocating instead of safe. I stood there holding a basket of shit I didn’t need thinking do I want this or am I just scared of being scared again? ‘Crash’ gets that exact moment. Lin’s not asking whether she should feel things. She’s asking whether she should let herself act on them. Whether she should run or let it crash all over her. The fact that the song doesn’t give you an answer? Perfect. Because the answer depends on the timing and the risk and whether you’re ready to swim or if you need someone to show you how first.
I’m still discovering Jason Ross’s back catalog and every track I find makes me madder that I waited this long. Lin Was Here is now on my radar in a big way. ‘Crash’ is what you play when you’re standing at the edge of something that could heal you or wreck you and you’re trying to decide if the drowning is worth it. Spoiler – usually it is.
