Back in 2013, I’d been working for about five years, was a young father, and felt completely stuck. I couldn’t express myself at work the way I wanted to, my music and art weren’t going anywhere, and I felt like a sloppy dad. I was frustrated — mocking my own life, tired, ungrateful — and I hated that about myself. I knew, rationally, that I had every reason to be thankful, yet I couldn’t feel it.

At my brother-in-law’s suggestion, I went to see a coach. During one of our sessions, she asked me to make a mood board. So I sat there flipping through magazines, looking for images that spoke to me. Then I came across a painting of a man and a woman dancing, spinning around each other. The focus was on the two of them — holding each other in the center while the world turned around them. Something in that image hit me. I realized I wanted to be that dancer: to move through life playfully, lightly, holding my partner, not caring what the world thought. It became a symbol for what I wanted — to break free from what i had taken on and rediscover joy and gratitude.

That moment planted the first seed of Crush on You.

The funny thing is, my wife and I aren’t great dancers. I’ve always been a bit envious of people who can lose themselves in dance, who move freely and confidently. Over time, I also started to see how that image of dancing applies to relationships — how couples can fall into their own kind of “perfect dance.” You know each other’s steps so well, even the mistakes. You circle around the same patterns: “She always…” “He never…” The rhythm feels familiar and safe, but it doesn’t bring you closer. You’re still avoiding each other’s toes instead of truly connecting.

When I started writing the song, I wanted to capture some of that — the beauty of the dance, but also the insecurity, the vulnerability, the repetition and the longing break free from it. While searching for a deeper story behind the lyrics, I came across the biblical tale of Herod and Herodias. Around that time, the news was full of men abusing their power, and suddenly the ancient story felt very modern — almost like an early #MeToo moment. Herod, overwhelmed by desire and pride, promises the dancing girl anything she wants — even half his kingdom — and that reckless moment leads to tragedy.

That tension fascinated me: the mix of admiration, surrender, and the cost of giving yourself over completely. It gave the song its deeper layer — but I still wanted the sound to feel light, euphoric, and alive. Crush on You became a song with movement at its core: joyful on the surface, but with old echoes swirling underneath. My wife and I still haven't taken dance classes by the way :)