Ivory Layne captures the intoxicating push between desire and self-preservation on “Skim,” a cinematic song that pairs towering, explosive sound with a raw emotional core, turning the fear of falling in love into a bold, visceral, and unforgettable anthem.

Stream: “Skim” – Ivory Layne

Don’t let it sink in / I don’t wanna catch a feeling again.

* * *

Letting yourself fall can feel like standing at the edge of a drop you already know too well –

– the memory of impact lingering long after the moment has passed.

That urge to protect the wound reshapes how you move, how you connect, and how deeply you’re willing to go. In Ivory Layne’s world, that instinct becomes a choice: Stay on the surface, keep things light, and never risk the kind of feeling that leaves a mark.

On her latest single “Skim,” that decision plays out in real time – a push and pull between desire and self-preservation, where longing never fully disappears, it just gets managed and pushed down; numbed to the point where no one gets in. From the track’s opening lines – “Swimming on the surface / And I won’t dive in” – Layne sets the terms of engagement, framing emotional distance as both shield and sacrifice. The result is a song that doesn’t just wrestle with vulnerability; it captures the quiet, daily negotiations we make to avoid getting hurt, even when it means missing out on the depth we crave.

Ivory Layne turns her inner tension into a towering, cathartic release on “Skim,” a cinematic eruption that hits with gut-punch intensity, pairing arena-sized emotion with razor-sharp self-awareness to create a reckoning that doesn’t just sound massive, but feels lived-in, immediate, and impossible to shake.

Swimming on the surface
And I won’t dive in no
Swimming on the surface
No I I won’t dive in

Atwood Magazine is proud to be premiering the Danni Meza-directed music video for “Skim,” the emotionally charged second single of the year from Ivory Layne (initially released in mid-March). Following February’s “Roam,” the track arrives as her latest release amid a new creative chapter – one that leans further into rock textures and dramatic scale while staying rooted in the kind of intimate, confessional songwriting that has long defined her voice. The song will appear alongside forthcoming releases from her current sessions with production partner Dead Covenants, as Layne continues to expand her sonic world with bold, cathartic intent.

A natural-born songwriter who began crafting songs at just six years old, Layne has built her career on instinct, independence, and an unwavering commitment to artistry over algorithm. The Charlotte, North Carolina-based artist taught herself music production in her teens and has since carved out a distinct lane, earning support from the likes of Justin Timberlake and Meghan Trainor while collaborating with celebrated writers and producers including Natalie Hemby, Lori McKenna, and Eg White. Her independent streak runs deep – from hosting offline events to cultivating a dedicated Patreon community – and her recent run of releases reflects that freedom, balancing pop precision with a newfound rock edge that feels both expansive and deeply personal.

The world of “Skim” opens in suspension – a body floating just above the surface, resisting gravity, resisting depth, holding steady in that fragile space between feeling and retreat.

Ivory Layne builds that tension into the very fabric of her song, pairing its emotional hesitation with a sonic landscape that feels just as expansive as it does unstable, as if everything could either crash down or lift off at any moment.

“I love that the first indie rock song that I ever released has to do with vulnerability,” she tells Atwood Magazine. “The production is insane and feels like me in a way that’s different from any other song of mine. It’s a fresh new sound.”

That sense of newness hits immediately. “Skim” wastes no time announcing itself – roaring electric guitars surge forward, drums crash and pound with unrelenting force, and the entire mix swells into a massive, immersive, and unapologetically loud fervor. It’s a savage, full-bodied entrance that leans into alternative rock’s grandest instincts, wrapping Layne’s voice in towering walls of sound that feel built for release as much as they are for restraint.

And then, just as quickly, it all falls away.

The opening lines – “Liked you better when you never acted like I even mattered / Nothing cut too deep, that’s fine with me” – arrive stripped bare, the production pulling back to reveal little more than Layne and an acoustic guitar, her voice suddenly weightless against the silence. It’s a striking contrast: Where the chorus hits like a tidal wave, the verses hover, suspended in hesitation. That push and pull becomes the song’s emotional engine, mirroring the very conflict at its core – the urge to give in versus the need to hold back.

This tension doesn’t stay abstract for long – it sharpens, narrows, and starts to take shape in the details of a relationship already in motion.

Layne moves from instinct to interaction, tracing the fragile middle ground where detachment and desire blur into one:

In between the space of
Being stupid feeling weightless
Now you, now you wanna be
Fine with me

There’s a flicker of irony here, even a hint of resentment – the emotional distance that once kept her safe now feels destabilizing, almost disorienting. Weightlessness reads as freedom at first, but in practice, it becomes disconnection: A state where nothing cuts too deep, but nothing fully lands either. And just as she finds her footing in that suspended state, the other person steps forward, asking for something real – something grounded. The timing couldn’t be worse.

From there, the song tightens its grip. The chorus doesn’t arrive as a release so much as a line in the sand, drawn over and over again with increasing urgency:

Time after time
I won’t let it sink in
I don’t wanna catch a feeling again
I don’t want ya anywhere under my skin
‘Cause If ya do I won’t get back in
And I don’t want to dig in

Each repetition feels more desperate than the last, Layne stacking her defenses in real time, her voice pushing back against the very emotion threatening to break through. The phrasing is striking in its specificity – under my skin, sink in, dig in – every line rooted in depth, in the fear of what happens once something gets past the surface.

And then comes the thesis of the song itself:

Let’s keep it on the surface
And skim, skim

It lands like a mantra, but also a compromise – an agreement to stay in motion, to never linger long enough for anything to take hold. The production mirrors that push and pull beautifully: guitars surge and recede, drums crash and then give way, and through it all, Layne’s voice hovers just above the chaos, caught between surrender and restraint. The result is explosive and unresolved, a chorus that hits with full force while still holding something back – just like the feeling it’s trying to outrun.

Layne puts that tension into plain terms: “I think if you numb yourself enough, it’s definitely possible to avoid letting anything sink in, be it love, joy, or simply emotion,” she says. “The alternative, to ‘skim’ through life, is to live a very thin, lonesome existence.” It’s a revealing perspective – one that gives the chorus its full weight, grounding the song’s central idea in lived experience and sharpening the stakes behind every line.

Wanna float I wanna fly
Drifting like I’m featherlight
Don’t wanna talk it out
Or drag me down

But the further I’m from everyone
The closer I get to the sun
Don’t wanna hit the ground
But I’m melting now

The music video brings that emotional contradiction into sharp, tangible focus.

Directed by Danni Meza and filmed inside Charlotte’s Julia’s Bookstore, the visual plays out like a classic meet-cute – two strangers circling each other, trading glances, slowly stepping into the possibility of connection. There’s an ease to their chemistry, a natural pull that builds toward a hopeful ending as they step outside and exchange numbers. And yet, all the while, “Skim” roars onward beneath it – a feverish, full-throated resistance to exactly this kind of closeness. That contrast serves as the video’s driving force: Fleeting moments of intimacy and attraction set against Layne’s emphatic refusal to let anyone in. Cutaways of Layne alone, staring straight into the camera as she sings, break the illusion again and again, grounding the story in her internal conflict and reminding us that even in connection, she’s holding something back.

“Danni Meza, our director, wanted to shoot in a bookstore as a play on the title ‘Skim’ – like skimming through a book,” Layne explains. “I looked up local bookshops and Julia’s was the first to get back to us. They were absolutely the most amazing people to work with. Not only were they kind and welcoming, but they are also owned by Habitat for Humanity, so their bookstore goes beyond book sales and coffee and pours back into the Charlotte community. It was an honor to partner with them, and I think it was the perfect location for the shoot!”

That setting proves ideal for a story built on fleeting contact and emotional hesitation. The video’s final moments leave the door cracked open – a spark acknowledged, a connection that could deepen into a relationship, and even future heartache, if given the chance. It’s a closing image filled with possibility, even as the song’s reluctance aches underneath it.

That’s what makes “Skim” resonate so deeply, hitting as hard as it does.

Ivory Layne doesn’t just capture the thrill of connection or the fear of getting hurt; she taps into a space most songs rush past – the in-between, where fear shapes feeling and hesitation rewrites instinct. The track’s power lies in that collision: In the way its explosive, larger-than-life sound collides with an internal narrative rooted in hesitation, self-protection, and the risk of feeling too much. It’s raw, immediate, and visceral, yet deeply introspective – offering release while forcing a reckoning with the walls we build to protect ourselves.

Watch the Danni Meza-directed music video for “Skim” exclusively on Atwood Magazine, and dive deeper into our conversation with Ivory Layne below, where she opens up about vulnerability, creative evolution, and the emotional truths that shaped this release. “Don’t let it sink in,” she sings – but “Skim” leaves its mark anyway.

Don’t let it sink in
I don’t wanna catch a feeling again
I don’t want ya anywhere under my skin
Cause if ya do I won’t get back in
and I don’t want to dig in
Let’s keep it on the surface
And skim
Skim

Swimming on the surface
And I won’t dive in no
It ain’t gonna hurt so much if
I just skim
Swimming on the surface
And I won’t dive in no
It ain’t gonna hurt so much if
I just skim

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:: stream/purchase Skim here ::

:: connect with Ivory Layne here ::

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Stream: “Skim” – Ivory Layne

A CONVERSATION WITH IVORY LAYNE

Ivory Layne: If you’re into big choruses, big hair, and big feelings: welcome. So glad you made it here.

Ivory Layne: I’ve always loved The Killers and Florence + The Machine for their epic storytelling and energy in songs. I’ve taken that approach in a more pop sense, but lately the new songs sound more rock which has been an exciting, cathartic experience.

Ivory Layne: We started it as a song to pitch for TV shows so I was pulling from real experiences without thinking about my artist project. And then, whoops, I fell in love with the track.

Ivory Layne: Vulnerability. The fear of falling in deep for someone romantically because you’ve gotten hurt from falling before.

Ivory Layne: Letting yourself feel. That’s something I have trouble doing. Feelings inspire and terrify me.

Ivory Layne: Again, we were aiming for a cool TV series so we went full indie rock. The tempo is actually slowed in the choruses, so we were going for an emotive, punch to the gut kind of feeling to mirror the desperation of the lyric.

Ivory Layne: I think if you numb yourself enough, it’s definitely possible to avoid letting anything sink in, be it love, joy, or simply emotion. The alternative, to “skim” through life, is to live a very thin, lonesome existence.

Ivory Layne: Danni Meza, our director, wanted to shoot in a bookstore as a play on the title “Skim” – like skimming through a book. I looked up local bookshops and Julia’s was the first to get back to us. They were absolutely the most amazing people to work with. Not only were they kind and welcoming, they are owned by Habitat for Humanity, so their bookstore goes beyond book sales and coffee and pours back into the Charlotte community. It was an honor to partner with them and I think it was the perfect location for the shoot!

Ivory Layne: I hope they’re inspired to catch feelings. And also just jam out to the song – it’s so fun to listen to. My main takeaway: have fun making the music. Let it surprise you.

In the spirit of paying it forward, who are you listening to these days that you would recommend to our readers?

Ivory Layne: Been a fan of them for years, but I was recently reminded of the song “Emmylou” by First Aid Kit and I just love them. They are perfect.

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:: stream/purchase Skim here ::

:: connect with Ivory Layne here ::

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Stream: “Skim” – Ivory Layne

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