Nova Hart— Under the Perfect Sound | Cinematic 80s Ballad

Polish on top, pulse underneath. Fans of Heart, Whitesnake, Chicago (ballad era), and Pat Benatar—this is the one where the gloss cracks and the voice wins.

► "Epic Ballads" Playlist:    • 80s Power Ballads by Nova Hart  
► 80s Rock Anthems:    • 80s Arena Rock Anthems  
► The Master Playlist (All Songs):    • The Complete Nova Hart Collection (All Songs)  

Artist: Nova Hart
Song: Under the Perfect Sound

Lyrics:
They sand the edges off my voice
They try to make it clean
They paint it gold and velvet
So the real me can't be seen
They take the air from out my lungs
And put it on a line
They want a perfect picture
But that picture isn't mine
But there's a scratch they cannot hide
A part of me that’s true
It’s in the breath I'm trying to take
It’s trying to break through

I'm underneath the perfect sound
Screaming through the shine
I'm not a doll, I'm not a toy
This broken voice is mine
Underneath the perfect sound
I'm trying to break free
If "pretty" means I disappear
Then take the "pretty" out of me

The screen is green, the line is flat
They smile and say it's good
They want a voice that's safe and tame
And does just what it should
But life has static, life has noise
It isn't clean and bright
It’s in the crack that shows the wear
It's in the fading light

Just let it crack
And let it break
Let the polish fall away
Let the real sound wake

I'm underneath the perfect sound
Screaming through the shine
I'm not a doll, I'm not a toy
This broken voice is mine
Underneath the perfect sound
I'm trying to break free
If "pretty" means I disappear
Then take the "pretty" out of me

I'm underneath the perfect sound
Screaming through the shine
I'm not a doll, I'm not a toy
This broken voice is mine
Underneath the perfect sound
I'll keep the edges true
If perfect means I'm not alive
Then perfect just won't do

It’s me underneath the perfect sound
Screaming through the shine
--
Archive Note:
By pushing her rasp against the varnish, Nova shows she hears what engineers can’t—she knows the difference between pleasing meters and telling the truth. The performance reads as a manifesto: she accepts the studio sheen but insists that the “grain” is where the soul lives, signaling her shift into the gritty, self-authored phase of her persona.

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