Moments in the Moonlight:

The AI singers, Reagan Hollister, Aria Bodae, Jett Knox, and Korb Seever, who are known as Dixie Heat, trade breathy verses like lovers trading secrets, strings swell like rising heat, and the chorus builds into the kind of harmony that makes you believe in soulmates all over again.

If you’ve ever been held so close the rest of the world disappeared… if you’re about to promise someone the rest of your nights… this one’s for you.

Play it low on your wedding night.

Play it loud on every anniversary after.

Brand new EP single from Dixie Heat on their Scars & Six Strings album: soon to be showcased on Spotify Music, Apple Music, Amazon Music, IHeartRadio, Pandora, and others...

Thunder in the Night by Dixie Heat

This podcast stream tells the story behind the song 'Thunder in the Night' where it all begins:

20 years ago, I was lost in addiction... I really hit rock bottom. I overdosed that night, and saw God and Satan battling for my soul. God won that night. It was the moment I began my sobriety/recovery journey.

Then, in 2017, after carrying many years doubt, regret, choices I made and hurt by choices others forced on me, I attempted to unalive myself. I felt God's hands on me again that day...

God has touched me (literally) three different times...

I hope you enjoy this song as much as I loved writing it.

This song sat in my notebook for years because some truths are too heavy to say out loud until you’re ready.

It’s about the mama who baked bread and tucked me in…

who drifted when the marriage broke (as most often do)…

who locked up Grandma’s memories the year I was drowning in addiction (I understand she was grieving her mom and me at the same time)…

who still keeps her holiday table set for the people who hurt me most but never has a chair for me.

It’s about forgiving her anyway. About loving her anyway.

About finally understanding that love doesn’t always open the door back.

Slow, smoky country blues that feels like a confession whispered across an empty kitchen table at 2 a.m.

If you’ve ever stood outside a door you used to run through as a child… if you’ve ever forgiven someone who hasn’t forgiven you… this one will find the exact spot that still aches.

I will always love you, momma.

Some shadows don’t come from the past. Some are cast by people who refuse to step out of your space, your life.

This is about decades of quiet interference, whispered words that tore at a marriage, barriers built between a mother and her children, and those scarlet eyes that still watch from the edges of screens—follow, delete, repeat.

I wrote it with anger in my veins, pity in my heart, and finally… peace in my voice.

She's not a name.

It’s not a finger pointed.

It’s just the truth of surviving someone else’s obsession and choosing to walk forward anyway.

Slow, smoky country-blues that starts low and dangerous and ends with the kind of freedom only indifference can bring.

If you’ve ever felt watched, undermined, or erased by someone who wouldn’t let go… this one’s your exhale.

A sultry modern country track born from late night reflection under wide open skies.

“Five Years Dry” was written on a quiet evening, whiskey in hand, watching distant lights flicker across the horizon.

It captures that long season of solitude—five years without letting anyone close—and the sudden, undeniable stir of desire when someone finally feels like the risk might be worth it.

This song is about awakening: the deep ache of longing after a drought, the slow thrill of surrender, and the beauty of feeling truly alive again. It’s the craving for connection when walls have been up too long, wrapped in steel guitar, warm vocals, and the kind of honesty that lingers.

Red dirt roads, backroad nights, and the moment the heart remembers what it’s been missing.

This one song is probably the most challenging one I have ever written... I had to write it, with the open wounds exposed... that had been buried so deeply... it has taken me over a decade to finish it.... some would call it denial (in the beginning process of writing this)... but for me, I describe it as therapy in the chaos... and now, it has the eyes of both a wounded soul to the journey of redemption and mercy.

I began writing this one on the floor of an empty house, divorce papers still warm on the table.

I thought I’d outrun the ghosts in Arizona.

Seven years clean, in 2012... a beautiful, happy marriage, a life I’d fought tooth and nail to build.

Then certain “family” came knocking—whispers, judgments, old wounds ripped wide open.

They didn’t just haunt me.

They walked right into my home and tore it apart from the inside.

What was left was a mutually agreed goodbye to the man I loved… and the same aching hole I’ve carried since the night I drove west and left my babies sleeping.

This duet is me expressing the regret and prayers I still wake up to every morning.

And the singers:

her: a close friend, maybe me...

him: maybe my then husband, maybe my dad, maybe the hope of my kids one day—answering with the forgiveness I’m terrified I don’t deserve.

It’s therapy set to music.

Raw. Heart-wrenching. The kind of song you play when the walls are closing in and you need to remember you’re still breathing.

If you’ve ever had the past reach into your present and shatter everything you thought was safe… this one’s going to feel like it was written in your own handwriting.

This is the one I was scared to write for twenty years.

It’s about the night I stole from my own mother, the courtroom I faced alone, the four months in orange, the warrant, the 2,000-mile drive west with nothing but a death wish and a Dr Pepper waiting on the other side.

It’s about every door that slammed in my face… and the one man who refused to close his.

Daddy never stood in that courtroom. He didn’t have to. He was the porch light in Arizona I ran toward when the rest of the world went dark.

Twenty years clean because one man kept a door open when everybody else (including me) said I didn’t deserve it.

If you’ve ever been the black sheep, the prodigal, the one they gave up on… if you’ve ever had one person who wouldn’t let go… this song is going to hit you like a freight train and hug you at the same time.

Turn it up. Let it wreck you. Then call the person who never closed their door and tell them thank you while you still can.

Written by J.K. Duty

Music Composition by me.

Crank the windows, throw on your faded denim jacket—this one’s pure 1988 cruising at midnight.

My friend wrote the words about a girl with emerald eyes that could stop a heartbeat at fifty yards. I wrapped them in big, glossy 80s country-pop-rock: crunchy electric guitars, soaring synth pads, a driving kick drum that punches like a V8, and a chorus hook so huge it belongs on a stadium jukebox between Bryan Adams and Restless Heart.

The AI singers channel that perfect smoky 80s vocals belting like the neon’s about to burn out and tomorrow might never come.

The kind of song you blast when you’re chasing taillights and old ghosts down a two-lane blacktop.

If you’ve ever loved a girl who felt like a summer that refused to end… this is your song.

Midnight Velvet & Midnight Ghosts

Close the blinds. Kill the lights. Let the smoke curl.

It is three-thirty a.m. in a roadside bar that forgot to close, poured into slow, black-velvet sin.

One woman (me). One voice like bourbon, smoke, and unanswered prayers.

I was asking the dark the only question that still matters, and the dark is answering in moans and thunder you feel in your chest.

Seductive as a stranger’s hand on the small of your back. Mysterious as the name he left with. Haunting as the echo that never leaves the room.

If you’ve ever loved someone who vanished and still feel them breathing on your neck…

This song will slide under your skin and stay there long after the last note dies.

Close the door. Turn off the lights. Press play and let two voices crawl inside your skin.

This isn’t just a love song. It’s slow, aching, breath-on-neck intimacy set to music. This my expression of what real love is, and the ache I hold deeply in my heart and soul (to find the one who makes my world stand still).

When their voices meet on the "world stands still,” time actually stops; your heartbeat syncs with the kick drum, your breath catches on every lyric.

Southern soul guitars, candlelit piano, strings that swell like rising heat… trading secrets only lovers know.

If you’ve ever wanted someone so badly the room disappeared, this song is yours.