Matías Roden’s New Single Captures the Pre-Heartbreak Pulse of Queer Longing

Vancouver-based pop artist Matías Roden returns with On the Run, a lush, melancholic, and ultimately bittersweet single that dives headfirst into the emotional whirlwind of early queer romance. Described by Roden himself as a “pre-heartbreak song,” it explores the universal—but particularly queer—experience of fearing commitment and fleeing just as vulnerability begins to take hold. It’s a moment of emotional sabotage that many gay men will find intimately familiar: when the spark is real, but so is the instinct to protect yourself from the hurt you suspect is coming.

With On the Run, Roden offers more than just a well-produced pop track. He crafts a story of love on the edge, framed by dark synth textures, stripped-down verses, and swelling choruses that carry both joy and resignation. Sonically, the track draws on a wide range of influences—sunset car rides, 80s synth-pop, the moodiness of Depeche Mode, and the emotional clarity of country storytelling. Despite this eclectic inspiration, the result feels seamless, cohesive, and deeply personal.

The production is a testament to Roden’s artistic vision. Co-produced with Canadian indie pop luminary Louise Burns, the track features drums constructed entirely by Roden himself, who painstakingly chopped and stitched together samples to create a rhythm section that feels organic, yet emotionally calculated. This heartbeat-like pulse propels the track forward, even as the lyrics wrestle with the desire to stop, reflect, and retreat.

Written after a brief, intense relationship that collapsed under the weight of its own emotional immediacy, On the Run reflects a keen understanding of intimacy’s fragility. Its structure mirrors the emotional trajectory of fleeting connection: sparse, minimalist verses swell into cinematic choruses, then fade into near silence in the final moments. This ebb and flow mimics the unpredictable rhythms of falling in love while fighting the impulse to run away from it. There is no resolution, only the ache of unfinished business—emotional loose ends still fluttering in the wind.

The single’s official video brings that tension to life with a queer, cinematic twist. Featuring actor Connor Riopel (of Amazon Prime’s Laid), the visual follows two cowboys on the run, escaping America for the relative safety of Canada. It culminates in a passionate kiss beneath a massive Canadian flag—a powerful nod to Bruce Springsteen’s iconic Born in the USA imagery. Like the single artwork, which mirrors Springsteen’s album cover but replaces the American flag with Canada’s red-and-white, the video fuses queer visibility with subtle political commentary. It’s a love story, yes—but one laced with questions about freedom, safety, and national identity.

The video’s narrative speaks volumes in a moment when both Canada and the U.S. are reckoning with their own roles in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights. It’s more than just aesthetics—it’s a statement. By placing queer love in a country-western framework traditionally coded as masculine and conservative, Roden challenges expectations while reframing what escape, identity, and desire can look like.

Born in the UK, raised in Peru, and currently based in Vancouver, Roden brings a global perspective to everything he creates. His debut EP, The Plea, released in 2024, earned acclaim on CBC Radio for its lead single “Close Your Eyes,” cementing his reputation as a rising voice in the queer pop landscape. With his full-length debut album slated for September 2025 and a major fall tour supporting UK pop artist Tom Aspaul across North America, Europe, and Latin America, Roden’s reach is only growing.

But despite this upward momentum, Roden never loses sight of the emotional core that drives his music. At its heart, On the Run is not just about a relationship—it’s about the feeling that something real is just out of reach, slipping away before it ever had the chance to bloom.

As Roden puts it: “Something is gonna ache.”

And with that, On the Run becomes more than a song. It’s a pulse. A warning. A memory. A mirror.