Let’s get this out of the way first — Novai’s “Someday” (written by Michael Stover, released through MTS Records) isn’t trying to reinvent heartbreak. It’s not smashing guitars or shattering the foundations of pop. It’s doing something way more dangerous in this numbed-out, algorithm-fed era: it’s feeling something. This song bleeds, but it doesn’t beg for your sympathy. It just looks you in the eyes and says, “Yeah, love hurts. But I’m still here.”
The thing about “Someday” is that it moves like smoke — curling, haunting, refusing to dissipate. Stover’s lyrics are old-school in the best sense: “Baby if you wanna leave, I won’t hold you.” That’s not weakness. That’s dignity with its heart ripped out and duct-taped back together. He writes like someone who’s watched a lot of bridges burn but still keeps a match in his pocket — just in case love needs rekindling.
Novai sings like she’s standing in the middle of those ashes, voice trembling but steady, burning slow. There’s restraint in her delivery that kills louder than any scream. You can hear the ghosts of Whitney and Mariah in her phrasing, sure, but there’s also something raw and unschooled — like a gospel singer who wandered into a midnight diner and decided to sing her order to the jukebox.
https://open.spotify.com/track/0Erq2fwgs7vJl2pe78aQAT?si=4b909b60ba594bdd
Production-wise, “Someday” lives in that dusky, cinematic haze where the neon of ‘80s power ballads meets the intimate glow of modern pop confessionals. It’s got a heartbeat — a soft thump under the melody — but it never tries to dance. It just sways. The chorus hits like déjà vu: “Someday our love’s gonna find us / When all of this hurt is behind us.” It’s a line so simple it feels like it’s been written a thousand times before. But that’s the trick — Stover finds eternity in clichés because he means them. The man writes like he’s still foolish enough to believe in happy endings, and that’s punk as hell in 2025.
The bridge — “If you’re lost and you’re lonely, I’ll hold out my hand” — is where it breaks you. It’s not just a lyric; it’s an act of mercy. In a time when everyone’s ghosting, flexing, and performing emotional detachment like it’s fashion week, this song just offers a hand. No irony. No armor. Just humanity.
“Someday” doesn’t chase perfection. It stumbles, sighs, and keeps walking barefoot through the emotional wreckage, humming to itself. It’s that last cigarette after a breakup — bitter, necessary, and a little bit holy.
If music is supposed to remind us that feeling too much is still better than feeling nothing at all, then this one does its job. It’s a quiet rebellion against the sterile, over-polished noise of now.
Final verdict: “Someday” is a ballad for people who still believe the heart can heal itself, even after it’s been left out in the rain. Light one, pour another, and press play.
–Leslie Banks