There are songs that arrive like lightning — quick, blinding, unforgettable. Then there are songs like Tarric ’s “Born to Go,” which fall over you like a slow dusk, wrapping grief in warmth, not thunder. It’s a track that doesn’t demand attention with volume but with intimacy. And in doing so, it holds more power than most things currently screaming for plays.
The Los Angeles-based artist has made a name for himself by bridging ’80s new wave nostalgia with modern indie textures, but on “Born to Go,” he trades gloss for gravity. The song marks a personal turning point — a meditation on the loss of his father, filtered through dreamlike synths and a gentle vocal delivery that never tries to dramatize pain. Instead, Tarric lets the moment breathe.
The song captures that strange space where memory and acceptance blur — that ache we feel when we start to let go but still aren’t ready. It’s a universal feeling, distilled with rare clarity.
What’s remarkable is how restrained it is. The production is clean, almost floating, anchored by soft percussion. But it’s Tarric’s voice — calm, clear, but bruised around the edges — that holds you.
Lyrically, “Born to Go” circles around themes of love, impermanence, and the strange grace in understanding someone’s time has come. “You were born to love me / You were born to go,” he sings — and the line lands like a goodbye you’ve said a hundred times in your head, but never out loud.
This isn’t just a song about death. It’s about the people who leave, and the pieces they leave in us. And the way Tarric delivers it — not as tragedy, but as tribute — is what makes it stick. It doesn’t try to be epic. It tries to be honest. That’s a harder thing to pull off.
With “Born to Go”, Tarric adds another chapter to his quietly expanding universe — one where emotional clarity and sonic atmosphere aren’t at odds, but deeply intertwined. If this is any preview of what his upcoming album Method has to offer, we’re in for something special. Something that doesn’t just sound good, but feels necessary.
Because sometimes, the songs that whisper the loudest stay with us the longest.
