Artemas “superstar” Lyrics Meaning & Review: Dark-Romance Pop That Hurts So Good (Lovercore era)

Artemas’s “superstar” takes that dark romance he does so well and presses it into a neon bruise, a love song that wants the high and the hurt at once. 

It arrives as part of the Lovercore run, with the official video landing on 2 October and the mixtape following on 24 October, a neat two-step that sets the tone: desire first, consequences later.

He writes and produces with MRD, Kevin White, and Daintree, and you can hear the house-adjacent chassis they build together: a kick that doesn’t blink, a bassline that pulls like undertow, and icy synths that keep the room at arm’s length while the lyric gets close.

The story is a simple obsession folded into a glamour fantasy. The chorus is a vow and a wound in the same breath, “you are such a… superstar, so beautiful it breaks my heart, I wish I was a work of art,” which turns self-doubt into worship and makes envy feel devotional. 

The verses push the physical into metaphor and then back again. He lets the rush say its name, “cocaine off your body, so I’m sober now… smoke me like the cigarette that’s in your mouth,” then yields to the power imbalance with “you’ve got me… in the palm of your hands.”

Those lines sketch a relationship that lives between pleasure, pain, and solitude, an intoxicating balance where being dazzled means being undone.

The video frames that mood with clean, fetishised imagery rather than plot. Directed by AboveGround and starring pole artist Rotten Babe, it moves between motel pinks, chrome blues, and the glow of a tanning bed, Artemas a cool-eyed presence while the camera treats the body as sculpture. 

It is less narrative than temperature setting, which suits a song that wants to be felt before it is solved.

The track is almost conversational until it climbs on “breaks my heart,” the hook hits, and the synths widen a touch, then everything sinks back to that patient four-on-the-floor. 

Little production tells keep the spell intact: a static crackle before the lift, a low-pass dip that mimics breath being held, a wordless sigh that returns like a memory. 

It is tight writing built for replay, and it wears the club gloss lightly enough that the lyric keeps its sting.

This encapsulates a darker side of Artemas’s production, with elements well mixed, creating a forward momentum that sells the fantasy, then leaves a bruise.

As a percussor for Lovercore, “superstar” is exactly the right promise. It shows the craft behind the heat, lets the beat keep its teeth, and writes about desire with a clarity that feels dangerous and tender all at once.

If the mixtape keeps this balance of wanting and warning, Artemas’s dark romance will only get darker and more irresistible, from here.

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