Seven Minutes of Freedom: Why Does a Song Stay With Us?

 

There was something uniquely exciting about Hungarian electronic music in the 2000s – a wave that felt experimental yet melodic, cinematic yet deeply emotional. One of the defining bands of that era was Žagar, whose sound floated somewhere between downtempo, trip-hop, and electronic pop.

Among their most iconic tracks is Wings of Love, released on the band’s 2007 album Cannot Walk Fly Instead. Built on slowly unfolding electronic textures, the track creates a dreamlike atmosphere that feels both nostalgic and timeless. It is carried by the ethereal vocals of the Underground Divas collective, featuring Bori Péterfy, Edina Kutzora, Sena, Juci Németh, Enikő Hódosi, and Judie Jay. Every listen feels like the beginning of a psychedelic journey.

I was sixteen when the album came out. The song immediately became my favorite and, somehow, it has remained the defining track of my life ever since. It was there after breakups, during new romances, and throughout my messier years of becoming an adult. Strangely, it still works exactly the same way now – in a completely different stage of life shaped by parenthood and everyday responsibilities.

Over nearly twenty years, I’ve come to realize that Wings of Love resonates especially strongly with me in spring. There’s something airy and piercing in it that seems to belong to this season. Maybe it’s because the days grow longer, the landscape turns green again, and for a brief moment everything feels a little lighter.

Last night, I started walking home in the dark. A mild wind carried the powdery scent of blooming trees through the streets. I was wearing a thin denim jacket and feeling cold. In my headphones, Wings of Love was playing.

And for those seven minutes, I felt free.

The chilly air didn’t bother me. Neither did the noise of the city or the exhaustion of the day. Just for a moment, I felt sixteen again. 

I wouldn’t recommend setting it as your morning alarm tone. My family eventually grew tired of hearing the violin intro blasting at 6 a.m. But if you want to step outside yourself for a few minutes and disappear into something beautiful, you should absolutely listen to it.

And then it ends – not loudly, not dramatically, but like something that quietly refuses to leave you.

“Wings of love at the end, will give us shelter again…”