This is Muir's fifteenth single, and it arrives with the confidence of an artist who knows precisely what she's doing. The track doesn't apologise for its subject matter; instead, it leans into the supposedly shameful territory of anxious attachment with a melodic hook so infectious it becomes impossible to separate the critique from the chorus. If loving hard makes you crazy, Muir suggests, then let's make crazy irresistible.
Producer Ghostpops—the Tokyo-based collaborator behind this particular sonic architecture—has crafted a soundscape that's both intimately claustrophobic and cinematically expansive. The production is modern without being trendy, polished without losing its emotional grit. It's the kind of sophisticated pop construction that allows Muir's confessional lyrics to land with maximum impact, framing her admissions in production values that never undercut their emotional weight.
The lyrical territory Muir navigates here is treacherous precisely because it's so recognisable. Keeping a lover's shirt in the car "in case you try to leave me" isn't romantic gesture—it's contingency planning born of insecurity, and Muir delivers it with the kind of self-awareness that makes the admission both devastating and oddly triumphant. She's documenting the granular obsessions of anxious love: memorising favourite songs, adopting borrowed slang, the constant calibration of self to match another's needs. These are the behaviours we're taught to be ashamed of, the supposedly "crazy" impulses that mark us as too much, too intense, too feeling.
But Muir refuses that shame. The chorus—"tell me you need me, more than you need oxygen"—is deliberately excessive, because the feeling it describes is excessive. This isn't measured devotion; it's the kind of all-consuming attachment that feels like drowning and breathing simultaneously. Muir understands that sanitising this feeling would be a betrayal of its essential nature, so instead she amplifies it, transforms it into a late-night singalong that invites complicity rather than judgment.
Her vocal performance across the track showcases the range that's earned her accolades including a Grand Prize and John Lennon Award from the John Lennon Songwriting Contest, and an Unsigned Only win for Vocal Performance. She moves from whispered intimacy to powerful belting with the kind of technical control that never sacrifices emotional authenticity. These aren't vocal fireworks for their own sake; they're in service of the song's emotional architecture, charting the distance between private confession and public declaration.
The track arrives as Muir prepares to open Be Social Fest, supporting Winston Surfshirt on Friday before taking the main stage Saturday for the song's live launch—a fitting context for music that's built for collective experience. Following the success of "Blueprint," which spent two weeks at No. 1 on the All Aussie Breakfast chart and accumulated over 684,000 Spotify streams across 89 countries, C.O.N positions Muir as an artist capable of translating deeply personal experience into universally resonant pop music.
Her trajectory—from opening for Dami Im and performing at Exit/Inn Nashville to her festival circuit appearances and headline shows at venues like Brisbane Powerhouse—suggests an artist whose goosebump-inducing live presence matches the emotional intensity of her recorded work. The collaboration with Ghostpops and previous work with industry veteran Bob MacKenzie at Real World Studios demonstrates a commitment to production values that can contain and amplify her confessional songwriting.
C.O.N positions itself as an anthem for empaths, for those who "love too hard, think too much and feel EVERYTHING"—and in doing so, it reclaims territory that pop music often cedes to more emotionally restrained perspectives. Muir has taken the accusation of neediness and fashioned it into a badge of honour, wrapped it in production slick enough for mainstream consumption whilst maintaining its emotional edges.
If you're going to be called crazy, Muir proves, you might as well make it unforgettable. C.O.N is catchy as hell, and that's precisely its power.