Turquoise’s “Les Yeux Verts” Is a Synth-Lit Dream for the Night Drive Hours

You don’t need headlights to see your way through “Les Yeux Verts.” The new single from Brussels-based band Turquoise glows on its own — a slow-burning, dark pop reverie that sounds like it was born under the streetlights, somewhere between a midnight cigarette and the moment the rain finally stops.

From the opening pulse of analog synths, there's a sense that time has slowed down just enough to feel every detail. And that’s what Turquoise does so well — they stretch moments. They pull emotion out of the silence between chords, and “Les Yeux Verts” is a masterclass in that kind of restraint.

Led by vocalist Sarah Boom, whose voice arrives like a whisper through fog, the track unravels in layers: shimmering guitars soaked in reverb, synth lines that flicker like neon, and lyrics in French that carry the kind of emotional weight you don’t need to translate to understand. Her delivery is calm but haunted, like someone still processing a conversation that ended hours ago.

If you’re familiar with the band’s earlier work — their 2019 debut EP or their more recent full-length avant demain, produced with Ariel Loh (whose name has only grown bigger this year after that Grammy recognition) — you’ll know this isn’t a band chasing trends. Turquoise has always dealt in atmosphere and emotion, not algorithm-friendly hooks. But “Les Yeux Verts” feels like a moment of clarity. It’s not louder or flashier than their past work, but there’s something distilled here — something painfully beautiful and a little dangerous.

This isn’t background music. It’s the soundtrack to your late-night unraveling. There’s a scene in every indie film where the main character drives alone through the city, windows cracked, thoughts louder than the engine. That’s this song’s habitat. That’s where it lives best.

Stylistically, the band continues to tread a fine line between genres — elements of cold wave, shoegaze, post-punk, and dream pop all live here, but nothing ever leans too heavily in one direction. There are echoes of Cocteau Twins, sure. Maybe a shadow of Desire or Kaelan Mikla in the distance. But Turquoise never slips into imitation. They know the language of the past, but they speak it in their own accent.

“Les Yeux Verts” is the kind of track that creeps up on you. Play it once and it’s intriguing. Play it twice, and it becomes essential. It’s that rare kind of song that sounds like a memory — one you’re not sure is yours or someone else’s. But it stays with you either way.

With summer festival slots on the horizon — including a date at Dour Festival — Turquoise is carving out their own low-lit space in the European alt scene. It’s not hype, it’s presence. And if “Les Yeux Verts” is a sign of where they’re headed, that path is looking very, very compelling.

Do yourself a favor: wait until it’s dark, put this on, and take the long way home.