Kayy Nova: Lights That Sing
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.
But has Vegas captured her heart? Just about. Kayy Nova doesn’t much care for the widely advertised tourist attractions and pop shows—they’re too artificial, too anemic. It’s the life outside the Strip, just past the mainstream, that calls to her. She describes her new home as safe and child-friendly, with mild winters and hot summers.
It is a side of Las Vegas that visitors rarely take the time to see, as it often gets lost behind the smoke and mirrors of the city’s reputation. Downtown, a vibrant mosaic of shops, is Kayy’s personal city center.
“Down there, that’s where I perform. That’s where I can feel an honest response from the audience,” she says. “Would you like to take a look?”
The Panamera darts through the sea of lights cast by the grand high-rise hotels. Pedestrians marvel as the car cruises past. Fellow drivers flash an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Ten minutes later, we roll into downtown Las Vegas, and it’s as if we’ve been transported to a different city—hip, cool, and authentic. We steer through a maze of narrow streets as the first rays of sunlight illuminate the storefronts of shops and cafés opening for the day.
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.
Image credit: Frank Keyser
This article was originally published in Issue 376 of Christophorus.
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