I was born in the fire, never needed your spark,
I’ll burn down your empire and leave my mark.
You tried to tame my soul—
I’m the chaos you can’t control.
Control is always framed as protection—until the moment it reveals itself as fear. Fear of autonomy. Fear of refusal. Fear of the figure who no longer asks to be shaped, softened, or spared. On “Control”, Miss Trezz gives voice to what power structures instinctively try to contain: a woman who names herself as the storm, not the damage left behind. The song’s opening verses reject origin myths built on permission or approval, replacing them with fire, theft, and desecration—thrones rust, crowns collapse, tombstones are spit upon. What emerges is not chaos as collapse, but chaos as leverage: a force that cannot be disciplined because it was never borrowed in the first place.
The track advances with a marching insistence, each beat registering as a step taken without hesitation. There is no seduction here, no request for understanding. Miss Trezz’s vocal delivery is direct and unsoftened, carrying confrontation as clarity rather than threat. Chaos, in this context, is treated as competence—upheaval as something learned, practiced, and deployed with precision. Consolation is dismissed early; the song makes no effort to rearrange itself for someone else’s comfort.
“Control” traces a rise that feels ritualistic rather than reactive. Fire becomes origin rather than aftermath; thrones shrink into temporary furniture. Systems built to quiet women are not debated—they are addressed with a cold stare and dismantled piece by piece. Miss Trezz positions herself simultaneously as disruptor and sovereign, refusing the fantasy that the future will improve its manners on its own. The repeated assertion of chaos is not nihilism, but strategy, pointing toward a version of femininity that neither explains itself nor lowers its volume. In that sense, the song operates less like an anthem and more like a manual: brief, bold, and built for use.
The accompanying video intensifies this thesis. Military-inspired styling reframes the female body as both battleground and banner, rejecting ornament in favor of command. Directed, photographed, and edited by Gabriella Bravaro, the visuals return the gaze without apology, transforming surveillance into dominance. Power here is not stylized as fantasy—it is enacted, held, and defended. In simple terms: stand your ground.
Watch below:
Chicago shaped the spine—a city that teaches endurance before ambition. Philadelphia added structure, with formal vocal training at UArts sharpening instinct into intent, impulse into control. Los Angeles became the testing ground: a laboratory for risk, friction, and edge. Across these geographies, Miss Trezz has remained authorial, writing and producing from the inside out while moving fluidly between collaborators. Her work leans toward darker melodic structures, driven by synth weight and electronic propulsion, with collaboration functioning less as concession and more as expansion.
As part of the Rebel Muse EP, “Control” sharpens Miss Trezz’s self-defined Noise Noir identity. Industrial pressure presses against electronic pop instincts, while visual and lyrical choices favor confrontation over consolation. What results is a track that refuses containment—not because it seeks chaos, but because it understands exactly why chaos is feared.
“Control” is out now via Re:Mission Entertainment. Listen to the single below and order it
here.
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