There’s that moment when you’re tangled with someone and every sense is turned up to ten. You can smell the sweat and taste the want then suddenly you’re both too gone to remember who started it. That’s what Find A Way does to me—it pulls every nerve to the surface until it’s impossible to tell where the song ends and the craving begins. Lowly Light lays down a groove that grinds slow but hits deep, and Liset Alea moves through it with the kind of breath that sounds like surrender. It’s disco for people who fuck like they mean it, who dance through the chaos just to find that one second of clarity before the next rush hits.
She’s never been afraid of heat. She was born in Cuba but raised in Miami. Shaped by twenty years in Europe, Liset carries desire in every breath. After fronting the Parisian band Nouvelle Vague, she owned stages across continents, singing in English, French, and Spanish until the crowd forgot to breathe. She’s worked with Rodriguez Jr., Patrick Topping, Alexkid, and Audiojack, leaving their tracks slick with sweat and tension. Back in Miami her sound drips with contact, raw and dangerous, made for the hours when the lights are low, the room still smells of lust, and no one’s ready to leave.
Lowly Light is the alter ego of Matt Gorny, an award-winning songwriter and producer who has worked with Ultra Naté, Amanda Lepore, and Mishell Ivon. His tracks are built for bodies in motion—sharp and unapologetically physical. He approaches dance music as tension management: build, tease, withhold, release. It’s the same pulse that runs through Find A Way, the reason his work with Liset feels less like collaboration and more like foreplay.
Advertisement
The song opens on days spent in a summer fog, her voice half-awake and caught between pleasure and purpose. That line alone says everything—no rush, no agenda, no job, just drifting through mystery and temptation. Then she shrugs through I sorta know what I want to be, and it feels like a confession whispered to someone when the club is closing. The beat builds under her, steady and teasing, while Lowly Light layers synths that shimmer with restraint. It’s glossy, but never cold. Every kick feels alive, every hi-hat teasing your hips toward movement.
By the time she hits whatever happened to you, baby, the track’s already in your bloodstream. It’s nostalgia you can grind to—grieving what’s lost without losing the high. Who hasn’t lost something lately, she asks while urging you to keep moving even when the floor’s spinning, to let the rhythm swallow everything else. The lyric feels drunk and defiant, the kind of line that keeps your body moving after reason’s gone. It’s dancing as survival, pure impulse, pure need.
Lowly Light knows exactly how far to push it. His production never rushes her; it lets her breathe. He’s talked about the song being born from a lack of confidence and fighting himself to change. You can hear that tension in the beat, steady but restless, wanting to explode but staying composed.
When she reaches whatever path I try to take, it’s got to be for my-my-myself, the energy shifts. The repetition is survival. You can hear her wrestle her way back to control, pulling pleasure into power. The bassline thickens, the lights dim, and suddenly the song stops being about the past and becomes about the self. That’s where Liset shines.
Advertisement
The bridge slides in like a come-down that turns into a second wind. Shine, shine, shine is a mantra and moan at once and there’s nothing clean or polite about it. It’s the sound of a woman remembering what her body can do when it stops waiting for permission. Lowly Light’s groove keeps her suspended in that space between ecstasy and exhaustion.
By the final chorus she’s found the way forward, the pulse that doesn’t depend on anyone else. You still find a way isn’t comfort; it’s command. The synths glitter, the rhythm breathes, and her voice slips into something half divine, half dangerous. You can almost see the sweat, the lights, the last bodies still moving when the club’s gone quiet.
Liset Alea built her name on elegance but here she sounds freer than ever. Miami’s heat fits her. She’s back under the sun, chasing something reckless again, and Find A Way feels like the soundtrack to that rebirth. Matt’s no stranger to pulse, either. His past work taught him that desire has its own tempo. Together they’ve made a track that throbs the moment you hit play.
When the outro fades and she breathes shine, shine, shine, the air doesn’t settle. It slides up your thigh, hot and slow, leaving your pulse still chasing the rhythm. You’re still turned on and wanting the night to start over just to feel it again.
