MAY 30
ONE NIGHT ONLY WITH NICOLAS MCCOPIN
BY LUNA CARDOSO
Some songs don't ask to be felt. They drift — disconnected, cinematic, quietly aching. One Night Only is one of them. Nicolas McCoppin isn't calling apart here. He already did. Now he's just floating through the fallout.
"Another red eye / one night only always" — it's not love; it's a layover. A connection with a timestamp. Fleeting. Numbing. Familiar in the worst way. The song progresses slowly, with glossy guitars and slow-motion synths, as if you're witnessing your own life through someone else's windshield.
But underneath? It's empty. "Think I forgot how it feels" is the track's anchor — whether he's talking about love, sex, ambition, or just being present, he's not reaching anymore. He's watching it all pass.
Even the most vulnerable lines — "You come over and over / to forget how it feels" — aren't confessions. They're habits. Cycles. City nights, cheap highs, quiet exits. Not dramatic. Just routine. And that's what makes it sting.
This isn't about heartbreak. It's about everything after that, when even the crash feels distant, when ambition fades into autopilot. When love starts to look like a distraction. Maybe the dream is still alive. But you can't feel it anymore.
McCoppin isn't asking to be heard, which is exactly why you should listen. One Night Only is disillusionment wrapped in melody, empty streets lit by neon, and the soft echo of something you once believed in.
