Tic tac… tic tac…

The clock is ticking and I am wondering if I could have more time to write about DataBass and her newest single release Time. Because after each re-listening, I realise more and more that time is just… changing. Shifting under your feet. Crawling and sprinting in the same afternoon. And here I am again, coffee going cold, replay on loop. Maybe this is my time, in its own way.

“Could I have more time / I don’t know if I will have enough.” Those first lines fall differently when you’re on the other side of your own twenties. I felt them way too close. They come with things you learn to hide, the ones you carry between your deadlines, between your days, between versions of yourself.

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A young composer figuring out her sky

DataBass is 22. She started with classical piano at six, moved into composing her own pieces, and kept expanding into production, engineering, and vocals – a lifetime of slow, steady growth into who she is today.

Discover more interesting stories like this — right here.

She comes from the world of ambient pop, with years spent at Ball State University, soaking in Music Media Production, Commercial Music, classical voice, commercial voice – the whole mix that shapes a mind into a little studio of its own.

And she’s not waiting around for life to start. She’s interning with John Paesano, learning the film-scoring world from the inside, aiming at a future filled with images, stories, and music that holds both.

Her roots stretch back to 2014, when Hans Zimmer’s Interstellar cracked open something in her. I get that feeling – that moment when a piece of music lifts the floor and builds a new one under you. She stayed with that spark long enough to make it hers. Years of pushing, blending, experimenting, chasing the little intersections where new sounds start to form.

You can hear Bergersen, Zimmer, Philip Glass, Shinoda – like ingredients that became her own language.

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A song built slowly, like someone learning their skin

Time grew with DataBass. Two years of shaping, rebuilding, tossing, correcting, opening doors and closing them again. Each version reflected a different piece of who she was at that moment. Students call it learning. Artists call it survival. Just press play below and tell me if you hear what I hear:

https://open.spotify.com/track/7jOw9x6vQJfGjizgoQGnN9?si=97bf139d98af44bc

She recorded parts with friends and family, which I found touching – you can actually feel the warmth in the way the track breathes. The song carries that “I’m not doing this alone” feeling. It comes through like a soft human fingerprint on every layer.

When she sings about spaces having limits and a bed turning rough, I know that room. The late nights, or those mornings when you wonder who you’re becoming. I’ve lived enough years to spot the moment when a young artist begins to understand the weight and reward of their craft. And Time captures that shift precisely.

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Growth, change, and the courage of asking for more

After sinking into Time, I went down the rabbit hole of her older work on Spotify – a little treasure I didn’t expect to find on a rainy Friday morning. I scrolled through tracks like Animal Eyes, Talking to My Dreams, Journey of Anubis, Seraphim, Faunus, and that striking short-film soundtrack LISTEN sitting proudly at the front of the line.

Each one felt like a breadcrumb left from a different season of her life. I was happy to go back into her timeline and chase the roots of what Time carries now – that slow evolution from curiosity to intention, from raw sketches to a fully formed voice. It made the new single feel even more grounded.

Listening to Time made me slow down. It made me think of my own unfinished things – songs, drafts, ideas, memories. Reminded me that growth never arrives clean. It shows up in pieces, carried through people, mistakes, and the stubborn hope that tomorrow will give you a little more room to breathe.

If you want to feel it for yourself, hit play, follow DataBass on her pages, and let the story unfold in your own time.