Vince Leigh’s Single Review: Ballerina Girl by Neo Stereo
By Vince Leigh (Ex drummer of Pseudo Echo, Tina Arena and John Farnham) of Australian Radio Promotion for Sheldon Ang Media
Let’s get something straight right off the bat: Neo Stereo’s Ballerina Girl isn’t just your typical heartbreak track—no, it’s a gut-punch wrapped in velvet, dripping with all the sweet, twisted contradictions of love. Mark Cassius, the guy behind the band name, is a musical alchemist here, pulling together sounds from everywhere—80s synths, indie rock, a touch of something old-school that feels like it’s been unearthed from some forgotten reel—and blending them into a track that’s as delicate as it is devastating. Right from the opening notes, you’re lulled into this false sense of security. It’s almost too pretty. The keys drift in like a memory you didn’t ask for, but here it is, banging on the door of your subconscious. Then, Cassius starts to sing, and that’s where the trouble begins. ‘She took it away,’ he croons, over and over, like some haunted incantation. It’s not the kind of heartbreak that makes you throw a chair out the window, but the kind that gnaws at you at 3 a.m. when the world is too quiet, and you’re left alone with your thoughts.
The beauty of Ballerina Girl lies in its restraint. Sure, the verses are stripped down, just Cassius and his melancholy, but the chorus? That’s where it all happens. It swells—guitars, synths, drums—they all come crashing in, but not like a tidal wave. More like the ocean rolling in slow, deliberate, and unstoppable. You feel it in your bones. And there’s a moment, right there in the thick of it, when you realize this isn’t just some love song—it’s an emotional exorcism. The repetition of ‘she took it away’ becomes less about loss and more about the inevitability of it. Like, yeah, of course, she took it away. That’s what people do, right? We give and we take, and sometimes it all gets ripped out from under you, but what are you going to do about it? Write a song, maybe. A song like this. There’s an air of nostalgia throughout the track, but he’s not trying to rewrite the story or pretend it all ended well. He’s just here, standing in the wreckage, holding up the pieces for you to see. But here’s the kicker: Ballerina Girl doesn’t leave you shattered on the floor. There’s a weird kind of solace in it all, like a shared understanding between the artist and the listener—like, yeah, we’ve all been there. And that’s what makes this track more than just another sad tune.
