Taehyun of TXT's "Bird of Night"
A Flight Through Sleeplessness and Hope
Hey everyone, Nisi here! TXT dropped Starkissed, their 3rd Japanese studio album, along with an MV for their new title track, “Can’t Stop.” It’s another offering of the dreamy, nostalgic sound that TXT conveys so well—the embodiment of ‘anemoia’ they’ve truly become for me. But while everyone’s jamming to the new release, I’m still stuck on something else, something a little more… nocturnal. I’ve been procrastinating on writing about the incredible solos from The Star Chapter: TOGETHER! And what better place to start than in the dead of night, where our thoughts tend to take flight? We’re diving into Taehyun’s “Bird of Night,” a song that speaks directly to those late-night anxieties that keep us staring at the ceiling.
The Runway: Setting the Sound of Sleepless Nights
“Bird of Night” doesn’t hit you with a wall of sound; it invites you into a space. It’s a auditory landscape painted with the hues of a sleepless night, where the clock’s ticking becomes a metronome for racing thoughts, and the city’s hum amplifies the feeling of isolation. The song’s foundation is built on a C major key, a choice that, on the surface, might seem bright and optimistic. However, in the context of the song’s themes, it serves as a poignant contrast, like a single ray of moonlight piercing through the darkness. The tempo is unhurried, almost meditative, creating a sense of space that allows the listener to fully immerse themselves in the song’s emotional depths. The song is a blend of r&b and pop, with r&b taking the lead and pop trailing behind, creating a sound that’s both smooth and accessible. It’s a aural embrace that feels both familiar and deeply personal.
The Takeoff: Taking Lyrical Flight
“Bird of Night”’s power lies in its ability to articulate the anxieties that often swirl within us during those quiet hours. The opening lyrical images—clock ticking, city noise swelling, shoulders weighed down by “choices piling up”—pin the song to that wired 2 a.m. window where overthinking won’t let you sleep. The question “What does it mean to become an adult?” is the thesis of the anxiety: life is blurry, stakes feel heavy, and you’re alone with it. The “bird of night” metaphor is where the song truly takes flight. Taking a private “night flight” reframes insomnia from passive suffering into an active, intentional glide. If you have to be awake, fly with it. In that sense, Taehyun claims agency without pretending the worries vanish with lyrics that don’t shy away from the darkness; instead, they find a strange comfort in its presence. The contrast between darkness and starlight, where “the darker the night, the brighter it shines,” becomes a coping mechanism: the deeper the dark, the more meaningful the light. This mirrors a broader pop-lyric tradition of finding constellations in hard times—starlight as a constant, an anchor, a reminder you’re not alone even at a distance. The idea that “the reason I stay awake is to move towards the stars” is the exact emotional flip you get in songs that treat night as a canvas for courage. The act of letting go, of naming the fog, is like a breath release. “We should let it go” lands like a gentle sigh. The song names “uncertain feelings” and then gently loosens their grip. That naming-then-releasing arc is a classic way to metabolize anxiety into resilience. The song also finds solace in solidarity, even at a distance. “I think of you who must be staring at the same star in the dark” folds empathy into the insomnia. Taehyun’s hope isn’t only individual; it’s communal—a constellation made of separate nights, shared sky. That’s the same emotional geometry where scattered lights become one pattern, one blanket, one comfort. The refrain, with its repeating “glow,” acts as a mantra, a sonic candle in the darkness. Mantras don’t fix the night, they steady you through it.
The Journey: Lullaby for a Restless Mind
The production of “Bird of Night” is like a lullaby for a restless mind. Its sound palette, with a soft piano intro, simple rhythm, and gentle synths, places the song in that “fairy tale r&b” pocket—glossy but intimate. The synth pads are doing a lot of emotional lifting here; those warm, shimmering textures are a time-tested way to make nighttime feel less threatening, more neon-hushed, more held. The absence of instruments, like acoustic and electric guitars, strings, and drums, contributes to the song’s intimate and introspective feel. The unhurried tempo and the spaciousness of the arrangement give the lyric room to digest the worry and then exhale it. It’s the same logic that makes certain mid-tempo tracks feel like a walk instead of a sprint—space calms the nervous system and lets the hope line bloom without melodrama. Taehyun’s vocal intent is key and his delivery here leans empathetic over showy—small dynamics, careful breath, the kind of phrasing that sounds like someone talking you down at 3 a.m. That choice—prioritizing comfort and connection— uses restraint to make hope feel earned, not imposed. The song’s mood is a complex blend of “sexy,” “romantic,” “uplifting and happy,” and finally “chill,” and that combination creates a sense of intimacy and vulnerability, while also offering a glimmer of hope and optimism.
The Map: Visualizing Insomnia
The music video for “Bird of Night” takes these themes and makes them visible. The solitary frame, with Taehyun alone at night while the city sleeps, makes the isolation tangible. It’s not just story—it’s the feeling that anxiety isolates even in a crowd. The MV’s push-pull of dim rooms, stray glows, and nighttime city color grades visually maps the lyric’s emotional oscillation. Darkness is the overthinking; light is the stubborn, steady star you keep returning to. The street lights, trembling like the lyric’s “flickering street lights… just like my heart,” become tiny flickers of steadiness amid churn. That night-urban aesthetic pairs naturally with synth-led textures that evoke neon, distance, and a strangely soothing melancholy. The cassette-tape symbolism (if you caught those details) is particularly striking: labeled tapes as catalogued worries; an erased or unnamed tape as the fear beginning to blur out. That’s pain transformed into something cosmic—like the way YUJU’s “Reply” turned bruises into star-maps or armor: harm reframed as history and strength.
The Arrival: Finding Comfort in the Constellation
“Bird of Night” resonates because it doesn’t deny the panic; it normalizes it, names it, gives it a shape (night, clocks, street lights), and then offers a practice: fly anyway, look up, let go. That’s why the hope lands—no false dawns here. TXT’s infamous “STAR” metaphor does double duty: it’s permanence (an unwavering point) and community (we’re under the same sky). That’s how the song relocates you from lone insomniac to member of a quiet constellation. Sonically, the gentle synth-piano blend creates a safe room inside the night—lush enough to cushion, clear enough to keep the thoughts audible. It’s comfort without sedation, which is exactly what a “sleepless night you can live through” needs. The song tone is cool, luxurious, warm, sparkling, and sophisticated, creating a sense of comfort and reassurance, and the movement is groovy, bouncy, steady, flowing, and pulsing, creating a sense of rhythm and movement that’s both calming and engaging. In the end, “Bird of Night” is a testament to the power of music to connect us, to validate our struggles, and to offer a glimmer of hope in the darkest of nights.
So, what do you think? Does “Bird of Night” speak to your own experiences with anxiety and sleeplessness? To me, it’s a testament to Taehyun’s artistry, great song-writing and a reminder that even in the darkest of nights, there’s a shared human experience.
Before you go, let me know what were your thoughts on Soobin’s “Sunday Driver,” Yeonjun’s “Ghost Girl” and Huening Kai’s “Dance With You” solos since I couldn’t deep dive into them all? Until next time, folks, stay open and keep looking up at the stars.”