B. Miles – “Five Alarm”: Controlled Burns and The Strokes

B. Miles’ “Five Alarm” explores desire’s destructive intimacy, illustrating the choice to embrace painful connections.

B. Miles extends her fire metaphor past the point of safety. The imagery throughout “Five Alarm” doesn’t use heat as poetic decoration—it acknowledges actual damage, burned flesh and bone, the kind of intimacy that destroys even as it compels. The New York artist frames desire as emergency you willingly sprint toward, knowing the outcome but unable to resist the pull. Her upcoming album Time Doesn’t Heal. It Hides. examines how the past refuses to stay buried, and “Five Alarm” serves as entry point into that decade-long reckoning.

The Room on Fire reference does double duty: literal call to The Strokes album playing in the background while two people smoke and settle into proximity, and metaphorical acknowledgment of what they’re actually igniting. Miles understands that certain kinds of closeness carry self-destructive undertones, the rush of chasing connection you know won’t last. Her vocal delivery maintains controlled restraint even as the lyrics describe urgency and desperation, creating productive tension between performance and content.

Since her breakout “Salt” accumulated 29 million Spotify streams, Miles has carved space in alt-pop by articulating emotions that resist easy explanation. Refinery29’s assessment holds—she provides vocabulary for feelings that otherwise stay inchoate and unprocessed. “Five Alarm” specifically examines the choice to pursue what hurts you, the conscious decision to remain in situations that consume rather than sustain. Miles describes wanting to burn alive in temporary intimacy, recognition that some experiences feel worth the cost even when you calculate the damage in advance.

The song bridges her 2015 debut EP Twenty Fifteen and present work, Miles noting how most songs she’s written over ten years lead back to the same flame. That retrospective awareness shapes “Five Alarm”—this isn’t naive combustion but knowing participation. Her work with bandmates Eric Nizgretsky, Jackson Firlik, Matias Quarleri, and Rob Seeley has pushed her toward fearlessness in examining relationship dynamics, particularly the courage required to assess your own happiness and act accordingly. Here, she documents the moment before that assessment, when you’re still running toward the heat despite every signal warning you away.

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