Lights that sing

A gleaming Panamera wrapped in chrome chauffeurs the blues songstress through the home of her dreams—an adventure of scintillating sound and color through the Las Vegas night and into the morning. From the rear of the car in chrome, Kayy Nova bursts into song, with a voice as powerful and smooth as the engine of the Panamera.

As she steps lightly across the hot asphalt, her red dress sparkles under the glow of neon lights—beacons of the Las Vegas stages Kayy Nova knows well.

By day, Las Vegas blends in with the dusty landscape of the Mojave Desert. But at night it becomes the city of lights, the city that never sleeps, Sin City. It is home to the one-armed bandits and the sleepless dreamers who pray for the favor of Lady Luck. While some fall under the spell of the casino games, others find themselves enraptured by the displays of tigers, magicians, and dancers.

And what do Las Vegas’s forty million annual visitors have in common? They all revel in this nightly oasis, a mirage of fortune and an escape from daily life. Fantasy is what this city thrives on. After all, it’s a city that doesn’t actually produce anything of its own—other than glamour and glitter, that is.

But there’s another Vegas beyond this fleeting chimera. A Vegas that appeals to the young blues singer Kayy Nova.

Kayy was born in Georgia but grew up in Indiana—home to the United States’ most celebrated auto race. It was in Indiana that Kayy first discovered her greatest gift: her voice. She honed her vocal talent over the years by singing in a gospel choir rather than through private lessons. Music soon grew from hobby to vocation, and she wanted nothing more than to surround herself with it. So Kayy, her husband, and their young son left their old life behind and set out for Las Vegas without any definite plan. Only the feeling that this was what they had to do.

Kayy is speechless as she stands before the Panamera. By now she has sung in many places, but never inside a Porsche. A chrome-plated Porsche, to be exact. Almost a bit awestruck, she caresses the sleek edges of the car and slides into the luxuriously cushioned backseat. To show us Vegas. Her Vegas.

The Panamera glides through the city. The millions of bright lights ricochet off its chrome surface—fireworks on aluminum wheels. It’s not long before the Panamera starts to attract stares. Even on the Las Vegas Strip, it’s hard to ignore.

Kayy is removed from this paparazzi-like attention herself. She flicks back her hair, plays with the seat heating, and hums one of the melodies from her debut album, The Notebook, released late last year. The seven-song history chronicles the ups and downs of life. An eclectic and captivating mix of blues, R&B, neo-soul, and hip-hop sung by a voice that needs no amplifier to capture the hearts of her listeners.

Kayy guides the Porsche to one of her favorite cafés, then to a well-stocked record store, and finally to a vegan restaurant. While the Strip may seem to be the heart of the city for those who don’t live here, downtown is the insider’s well-kept secret. The locals know that Las Vegas has much more to offer than one street of massive casinos and world-famous hotels. The breathtaking mountains surrounding the city, for example. Very few tourists ever take notice of them. Their eyes do not see beyond the stretch between the Stratosphere and the Mandalay Bay. “Even some of my friends have asked me if I live in a casino,” says Kayy with a smile.

There’s time for one last stop with our shuttle. To get there, the Porsche again travels straight through town, past lights now grown dim and weary, until we stop in front of a chain-link fence. We’ve reached the outdoor Neon Museum, which holds a vast collection of old neon signs, preserving a Vegas that once belonged to Elvis and Sinatra. Kayy is thrilled. She talks the custodian into opening the exclusive offstage area.

“How beautiful,” she enthuses once we’re back in the Panamera, making our way through the big city. She tells us about the stars, the icons, and the legends who have all sung here and helped make Las Vegas shine. Will she too perform someday on one of these grand stages? “Perhaps.”

With a smile befitting her last name, Kayy Nova leans back and basks in the morning light. And then a magnificent sound fills the air: Kayy sings one of the songs from her new album. Like the city itself, it is bright and colorful. Like the Panamera, unique and unmistakable.

By Dani Heyne
Photos by Frank Kayser

The blues—songs of perennial challenge, of sorrow, of world-weariness—are integral to America’s musical DNA. One of its modern descendants is garage blues rock, a fusion genre that is part of Kayy Nova’s repertoire.

Originating in the cotton fields of the Deep South, the blues has since taken on a variety of forms. It may be performed in a more traditional style, featuring strong vocals along with an acoustic guitar accompaniment. More recently, it has also been known to use synthesizers, incorporating downbeats and hints of hip-hop. Throughout the years, legends including Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, and Bo Diddley have revolutionized the genre, leading it in entirely new directions. Jimi Hendrix, too, became a poster boy for the electric guitar. Although his colorful headbands remind us more of the huge Woodstock Festival of 1969, which he headlined, it is his charisma and energy that stay with us to this day—a wounded genius who even in death remains immortal. By the 1960s, the blues had become a global phenomenon; British guitarists such as Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, and Jeff Beck soared on the wings of the blues to become rock icons.

As its name might suggest, the blues prefers the shadows. Its favorite time of day is the black of night—in a world so dark that the only flicker of light emanates from the neon signs of nightclubs.

The classic blues musician is a thrilling contradiction of suffering and coolness. He is a habitué of the smoke-filled bar; whiskey flows through his veins. He has nothing to lose, which makes him the most dangerous and unpredictable of them all. With the break of day, he takes up his instrument and sets off once again, though he does not know where he might be headed.

There are certainly plenty of women who have made their own mark on the blues genre as well. While men cultivated deeper registers and wild outbursts, female blues singers typically offered a gentler experience. But there are always exceptions. Janis Joplin, for example, whose powerful voice has yet to meet its equal. And Bonnie Raitt, who as a young woman honed her guitar skills under the tutelage of old Mississippi Delta pros.

The blues has been telling the same universal stories for over a century now. Stories of forsakenness, of sorrow and challenge, told by souls with no place to call home. This brokenness and vulnerability are what lie behind the appeal of the blues—the art of admitting that one’s life is anything but rosy, yet persevering nonetheless. Melancholy but optimistic. Modern blues has remained popular; the themes of loss and loneliness have not narrowed a broad appreciation for the genre. It is continuing forward into a future that—despite life’s troubles—inspires hope and confidence.

By Ralf Niemczyk