LET ME LOVE YOU BY KELSEY MONTANEZ

A woman in a seedy dive bar sings bathed in the red light of the stage. If feels cartoonish to an extent—a caricature of a seductress—something you’ve only seen in movies.

"Baby, let me love you," she sings, and you suddenly realize that this woman sings from a source of pain that haunts her every waking hour, her desperate pleas falling on drunken ears—none of which are their intended destination.

That is the picture Kelsey Montanez paints in her latest single, "Let Me Love You," a scene that we can only assume would come from a film directed by Robert Rodriguez (on the Desperado side of things as opposed to Spy Kids).

Sultry vocals dripping in the realness of personal experience are accompanied by a Santana-esque guitar which you can only assume is being played by an elderly gentleman who oddly resembles the late, great Stevie Ray Vaughan—hat and all—who winks at you when he sees your suspicion. And to be honest, these are the only two characteristics that matter. Everything else compliments without taking away from these two foundational aspects of the song. Without these, the song would be nothing, and with these, you get a solid love song born in the depths of affliction.