With ‘Pheromone’, the lead single from his forthcoming debut album ‘Porcelain’ (via Zenith Cafe), Danny Addison sets the room alight with the quiet, smouldering glow of obsession. From the very first breath, ‘Pheromone’ is not content to play in the background. It wants your pulse. It wants your surrender.
Addison’s voice is a paradox: tender, tremulous, yet filled with a kind of feverish certainty. It hovers just above the skin, whispering secrets you didn’t know you’d been keeping. ‘Pheromone’ is a sensory hallucination of lust and longing, a chemical confession. Guitar lines spiral like smoke, delicate and dizzying, pulling us into that familiar but dangerous place where logic falters and instinct reigns.
Lyrically, Pheromone brims with poetic unease. The lines twitch with tension, vulnerability rubbed raw against compulsion. Addison’s own words say it best: “‘Pheromone’ is about giving in to temptation and being at someone’s beck and call. It’s the ignoring of red flags and following your desires despite the consequences.” That reckoning—of knowing the fire and still moving toward it—is the emotional crux of the track. And it’s utterly human.
What sets Addison apart, even at this early stage, is his remarkable ability to conjure intimacy without ever sounding small. There's a restraint here that feels devastating—like watching someone barely hold it together, and loving them more for it.
If ‘Pheromone’ is the doorway to ‘Porcelain’, we’re stepping into an album of stories—fractured, luminous, bleeding at the edges. It’s clear Addison isn’t afraid to break open, to expose the ugly beauty of being too much or not enough, of being human in the most unfiltered, magnetic sense.
