u/DeltaEDM

Hey guys! I was curious to see if Weightless had the same impact on you as it did on me when it was first released, so I thought it'd be fun to share a supplemental essay I wrote about it when applying to study Computer Music at the Peabody Conservatory of Johns Hopkins University. I initially hoped I'd share this essay accompanied by some good news of an acceptance, but unfortunately I was only waitlisted, so yah :p

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To hear Arijit Singh’s angelic voice, singing in Hindi, accompanied by Martin Garrix’s production prowess, would create a collision of worlds not many dance music fans deemed possible just months prior. 

On the 11th of April 2025, however, I found myself in my Beijing hotel room, listening to Weightless: dancing to the groove of a song I knew I couldn’t produce, mouthing words in a language I knew I couldn’t speak.

I never doubted Martin Garrix’s ability to consistently amaze the world with progressive, indubitably danceable electronic music. After all, he was crowned #1 DJ 4 times for good reason.

But man, something about this track. It was so different.

There were no floor-cracking kick drums or screaming lead melodies. No crazy bassline in the chorus, nor a snare-filled pre-chorus building up to it.

Instead, the verse begins with a mellow but firm piano, tightly layered just below Singh’s soulful carol. Seene mein kyun darr sa hai, ki hone laga hoon main tujhse door? Singh asked. I hadn’t a clue what he was asking, but that piano made my heart ache to find an answer. 

The piano, still calm, gets slightly sturdier, as though being played more fiercely. It’s now accompanied with a weak, yet impactful clap on every 2nd and 4th beat. 

The clap whispers something to me. I’m not yet sure what it is, but before I’m granted the chance to figure it out, Singh’s voice roars: Arsa guzra hai dhuaan-dhuaan, mehsoos na tu hua, tarsa hai ruaan-ruaan, ruaan…

Ruaan. What is ruaan? Why was it so significant to Singh that he used non-diatonic notes to sing about it? Why did Garrix care enough to let the echoes of the word linger for more than just a moment?

Then, Garrix dropped everything. A moment of silence. 

And just when I felt like the track was about to give my mind a sliver of time to process all its intricacies, I was immediately proven wrong.

The chorus hit. 

A filtered, barely-there, yet ever-effective kick drum and the simplest bassline ever heard act as pillars to what may be the warmest, prettiest, most heavenly synthesizer in the history of dance music, playing the ethereal melody and chord progression, backed by an unintelligible but undoubtedly present echo of Singh’s voice. 

Kyun hai judaaiyaan?
Kyun hai judaaiyaan?
Kyun hai judaaiyaan?
Na chaahoon main judaaiyaan.

The chorus is simple. It is so painfully simple, but oh-so-infectious. Singh keeps singing in Hindi, and although I wish I knew the literal meaning of the questions he kept asking, I felt as though the music helped me understand them more than any verbal language would.

The song progressed, allowing me to reflect on every single choice I’ve made as a musician and producer up to this point. I questioned the quality of every drum I’ve processed, the significance of every chord I’ve played.

Maybe I’m doing something wrong. But maybe, according to this masterpiece of a track, doing things “wrong” is how you make an impact. 

As I finally began to understand why this song was so emotionally effective, Garrix revealed his final trick.

I had reached the outro of the song, sung by none other than Martin Garrix. 

The producer, guitarist, and DJ.

He just sang in his own song.

At that moment, I got up immediately, paused the track, and went to get my laptop. 

I wanted to write the most outlandish track I could think of, because that was the moment in which I felt that, despite the apparent language barrier, I finally understood what Martin Garrix and Arijit Singh were telling me all along.

To make great music, you don’t play the game.

You change its rules.