This electropop daydream belongs underwater — trust me. Hit play.

By Val Hernández

Some songs demand to be heard at full blast, in very specific places. For Eva Pagán’s latest single, 'Til I Die', the ideal spot might be somewhere underwater — literally. The singer calls it the ideal soundtrack for a glass-walled restaurant under the sea — but swapping the dining tables for a packed club dancefloor and you’re closer to the truth. This short, shimmering bit of electropop flips an everyday moment — a train ride through New York City — into a fleeting, hypnotic swirl of bass, layered vocals and feelings you can’t quite pin down.

---

Eva’s been quietly carving out her own little corner of the alt-pop scene, and there’s something genuinely fresh about how real it feels. Her recent rebrand — ditching her legal name, Eva Westphal, for her mum’s surname, Pagán — wasn’t just a marketing switch-up. It marked a deeper dive into her Latin roots and showed she’s serious about letting that side shape her sound, even if it’s only in small, subtle ways. While her previous single, ‘In The Mirror’, was a nostalgic, bilingual nod to her mum and Puerto Rican family, this new track somehow feels bigger and more intimate at the same time. It’s less explicit in its latinness, but no less personal — and that paradox is what makes it so intriguing.

From the first second, the bass does the heavy lifting. Thick, rounded, and borderline hypnotic, it anchors the whole track and makes you want to dance. But what makes it shine is how the production balances all its moving parts without suffocating them. Eva’s vocals glide between her soothing lower register and her lighter head voice — each switch perfectly placed. The effect is that one moment she’s almost whispering something in your ear, and the next she’s up in the clouds, layered with robotic-like harmonies that wouldn’t feel out of place on a Charli XCX record. If you love your traditional pop with a touch of electronic vibes, you’re in for a treat.

And yet, despite the sonic polish, there’s still a warmth to how Eva approaches autotune. She’s openly defended it as a tool — not a crutch — and you can hear why. Instead of ironing out every imperfection, the vocal effects here act more like paint on a canvas — sometimes soft and see-through, other times bold and synthetic. It’s a reminder that electropop, at its core, is as much about texture as it is about melody — and Eva just gets that, instinctively.

One of the track’s most charming touches is its use of ambient sound. At one point, she’s singing about laughing on a train — and right on cue, there’s this faint bell-like sound, basically the audio version of a quick film cut. It’s such a small thing, but it adds depth and keeps the dreamy vibe grounded in something real. Little details like that make the track feel like a snapshot: you’re right there with her, on the subway, city lights smudged outside, bassline buzzing in your headphones while you’re daydreaming about a night out that hasn’t even happened yet.

The lyrics sound simple at first — which is the trick, really, because they’re so easy to gloss over if you’re not actually tuned in. “Just when I think I’m getting sick of you, the seasons start to change” It’s the sort of line that sounds tailor-made for a late-night text or a throwaway Instagram caption — except, in context, it’s about New York City. Or at least, that’s what Eva says. The brilliance here is that she doesn’t spell it out. There’s no mention of skyscrapers or avenues — instead, the song lives in that sweet spot where you can project your own meaning. To some, it could be about a lover. To Eva, it’s about the city that’s shaped her. To me, it’s about my cat. To you? Maybe it’s about your flatmate, or someone you’d rather not name. It works either way.

Musically, it feels like there’s a subtle Latin heartbeat running through the beat — more whisper than shout, and maybe even unintentional. If you know Eva’s backstory, or you’ve been keeping up with her shift towards embracing her Puerto Rican roots, you’ll hear it: that little hint of merengue groove tucked under the pulsing drums. It’s all tight eighth notes that low-key demand excessive shoulder-shaking. It’s a clever, quiet nod to where she’s from.
Obviously, it’s not flawless. For people who are hard of hearing or don’t speak English as their first language, the lush layers can sometimes bury the lyrics a little bit. That’s part of what makes the genre so cool — vocals as just another bit of the vibe — but, yeah, it does make it trickier for some to follow along. A lyric video, captions, or even official lyric sheets would make a big difference, and knowing Eva’s track record, chances are she’s already got that covered.

There’s also the matter of length: clocking in at just over two minutes, the song leaves you wanting more. This isn’t a structural problem — the flow is tight, every element earns its place — but it’s more that once you’re in that underwater club, you don’t want to leave. An extended outro or another verse could have stretched the vibe further without overstaying its welcome. Then again, maybe I’m biased… or maybe that’s the point. Sometimes it’s better to cut the lights early and keep everyone craving a second round.

Taken as a whole, this single feels like another confident step forward for Eva Pagán. She’s leaning deeper into her artistic identity — electropop that’s personal, danceable, and delightfully ambiguous — and proving she’s not afraid to trust her instincts. It’s not loud protest pop or heart-wrenching singer-songwriter fare. Instead, it’s a subtle, glistening little world where you can bring your own story and dance it out. Whether you hear it as an ode to a city, a lover, or a beloved pet who terrorises your furniture but still owns your heart — it makes sense. That’s the magic of it.
​
So, next time you need a soundtrack for your late-night train ride, your imaginary underwater rave, or just a solo kitchen dance with your furry friends, put this on repeat. Two minutes won’t be enough — but that’s part of the thrill.

About the artist
Eva Pagán is a New York–based singer-songwriter who previously released music under her legal name, Eva Westphal. Fans call her an “international artist”, thanks to her German, Puerto Rican, and Colombian roots. She began her musical journey with stripped-back, honest songs about mental health and queerness — a rawness she’s carried into her more pop-forward sound today. A Columbia University graduate, she’s currently studying law while continuing to write, produce, and connect with her growing audience. Chronically online — in the best way: clever, funny, and deeply in touch with the community she’s singing for.